#remembered at 4am monday. well unfortunately

[lokh]

one annoying thing about having a 5 star island in acnh is that you have a very limited time to get a choice in who moves to ur island and if u miss it fuck you

[iggy-of-fans]

Of Being a Ladybug part 2

So, Paris is about 6 hours ahead of Metropolis . So if Marinette sent the message at say… 8 pm, and Jagged got it at 9 because he was at dinner, then getting lawyers straightened out and all that ...say Marinette starts school at 10 am, then it would be approximately 4am in Metropolis. It would be a 7 hour flight, meaning she'd leave at noon on Monday, and arrive at 2am on Tuesday. 

The cons of being a reporter. 

TUESDAY 2AM Paris 

Lois was as excited as she was exhausted. Paris! She'd always wanted to go to Paris. As her taxi drove her past the Louvre and she could see the Eiffel tower in the distance, she couldn't help but remember the call she received yesterday. 

"I know it's early, Lois, but I have a job for you in Paris" Bruce said from the other line. 

"I'm listening." 

"The satellites from the Tower have been picking up irregularities. Burning buildings, the Eiffel Tower toppled or completely missing, then the next pass everything is normal. Hal even claims he saw a giant baby on cams once. I've gone over all the pictures of the last year, a couple of weeks ago there… I can't explain it. I'll send you the images and we'll try to find a believable cover story for going in the middle of the school year like this"

"I understand, thank you Bruce. I'll book the earliest flight I can." Burning buildings? The Eiffel tower toppled? Nothing had been said in the news. If something on a grand scale like that were happening, they would already know. 

"Thank you, Lois. I will of course pay for your accommodations while there," Bruce offered. A consolation for sending her around the globe for film effects. 

She barely got a "thank you" out, before he hung up. She flopped back onto the bed, Clark raising an eyebrow at her. Of course he'd heard both sides of the conversation, so he obviously had his own opinion to share. 

"Well? What do you think?" she asked him. If Clark gave it some weight, she might take it more seriously. 

"A video was sent by the Mayor of Paris about a year ago, asking for help because his city was being overrun by stone monsters and their only hope lay with a couple of kids. I watched it and it looked like some cheap special effects and deleted it like the other publicity stunts people pull. Diana was the one to notice the inconsistencies with the Eiffel tower, and she swears she saw a couple kids flying on rooftops. It's why Bruce started investigating. But he has no reason to be in Paris at all, since Wayne Enterprises doesn't have an hq there, and he wants to save that excuse for if there IS any trouble. Anyways, try to enjoy your little vacation while you're there" Clark smiled. 

"... Does Bruce know the mayor called for Justice League intervention?" Lois asked slowly. This… Was… Not… happening. 

"No? I mean, just some publicity stunts, Lois. We get 20 of them a day" Clark dismissed. Lois was beyond words so she got up and started packing, and turned on her civilian phone to call for a flight. Before she could get dialing she got a call incoming. 

"Penny? Is everything okay? WHAT? YES! Of course I do! That's huge! Yes, let me just call my boss…. Oh? Oh wow! Thank you! Yes, I'll see you tonight… Or I guess tomorrow for you…yes. I understand. Thank you" Lois couldn't believe her luck. She grabbed her JL phone and called Bruce. 

"Bruce! I've got a cover! I've been asked by an old college friend to interview her client and a few others on Parisian TV. Yes, totally legit, she just called me… Penny Rolling. Yes, yes Bruce! I will keep my eyes open. Did you know the Mayor tried to call for JL intervention a year ago? No? Clark told me there was a video but thought it was a publicity stunt. Maybe try to find it and give me a heads up… okay… Thank you Bruce. That'll be perfect! I'll get to the bottom of this… Okay, thank you."

Finally done with the update she rushed to call the airline. 

" NOON?!"

Before she could take in the breathtaking view any longer, the cab stopped. Lois paid the fare and stepped out and looked up. It was a beautiful hotel, owned by Mayor Bourgeois. The cabbie was loading her bags onto a trolley with a Bellhop waiting stoically by the doors. Just as Lois went to inquire about Penny, the door opened and out she came. 

"You cut your hair!" Lois exclaimed, giving her friend a hug and a LA Bise. 

"You, my beautiful ginger, are late! Had you arrived a few hours earlier you would have had quite the show!" Penny said with a smile. She'd always been jealous of Lois's hair. 

"It's Paris, Penny. How exciting could it possibly be?" Lois asked jokingly, wondering just what her visit here would truly reveal. 

I was going to end it here, but I believe I owe you all an action scene 😉 

MONDAY 10AM PARIS

Ladybug flew over buildings in the direction of the explosions. She really wished she'd had a chance to see the classroom before leaving to see if she would have to once again go up against Alya. Or Lila. 

Maybe if she was lucky it would be another unfortunate soul altogether. One she hopefully didn't know personally. Because it was starting to really take a toll on Ladybug, every time she came face to face with a friend or loved one. 

Before she was ready she was at the scene. And she was shocked. The Akuma of the day was a barely visible outline of a woman. She had a flowy garment on and only became visible when she touched a person. The person would immediately admit to bad deeds, anything from finishing the ice cream container to more horrible crimes. 

Ladybug watched as a couple hid behind a vehicle to escape the fate, only for the akuma to lift and throw the car, one handed, into another vehicle, creating another explosion. The akuma drifted ghost like towards the couple and became fully corporeal as she touched them, first the man ("I tapped your phone! I hated how much time you spent always going out!" he blurted out) then the woman ("I  can't stand being with you!" she screamed back). Ladybug swallowed. This was not good. A non corporeal being with the strength of ten men and the ability to… Spill secrets? Ladybug wasn't sure, but didn't want to get too close before she had the full story. She went to grab her yo-yo to call Chat, only for him to pop up, baton swinging. 

"What have we here? Another scary movie victim?" Chat asked, drawing all eyes to them. Ladybug wanted to scream. Or toss him off the building. Once! Just. ONCE! 

"I… am Guilty Conscience. That voice that should tell you not to do bad… It Is too quiet in most people's heads. So therefore I shall make you scream your misdeeds to the world. No longer shall there be hiding behind white lies for innocence" the ghost whispered, yet to Ladybug she may as well have screamed. 

"Che, you're out of your league! I have a picture perfect record!" Chat smirked, ever brash and fearless. Without a second thought, he jumped off the building towards the ghostly form. And just as Ladybug predicted, went right through her. She did not become solid upon contact with a human unless she so chose to. Great… 

"Chat! Fall back, we need a plan!" Ladybug called, stepping back from the roof and readying her yo-yo. 

"Just lucky charm her and we can go out for coffee!" Chat yelled back, swinging his baton uselessly through GC. Ladybug shook her head. She was almost 90% sure they'd need more backup. 

"Lucky Charm!" she cried, throwing her yo-yo high. Down fell a teapot. Back up it is, she sighed. 

"Chat! Fall back, I'm going for backup!" she called out again. 

"Awe, but M'lady, I thought I was the only one you needed in your life!" she was sure he thought he sounded charming. She cringed. 

"Not now Chat. I'll be back in a while, keep her from following me but keep your distance. No need to waste your energy for now." 

Had she looked down, or paid more attention to her surroundings, she may have seen Lila hiding in an alley not far from the akuma. She may have noticed her trying to follow her. She may even have taken another route to get where she was going. Later she would regret not being more vigilant. 

To be Continued...

Looks like me tag list is officially full. I'll try to send the rest in the comments!

@sidd-hit-my-butt-ham @kuroko26 @northernbluetongue @zelladane @chez-pezeater @luciferge @vixen-uchiha @bluerosette23 @mochinek0 @krunchy-tuna @treebrosha @geekydragonyt @vivilakitty @sassy-spocko @bluefiredemon-blog @mindfulmagics @thornangelic727 @sidefrienda @xxmadamjinxx @thepeacetea @pandocatxd @whomthefyck @lamestplaceintheworld @miraculous-ninja @mikantsume @unabashedbookworm @kandi-pie @2sunchild2 @redsparrow12 @shamefullove @cadencehood @thatonechickathottopic @yin-390 @tazanna-blythe @bb-basbusa @zazzlejazzle @fanfictionaddict13 @royalchaoticfangirl @god-is-dead-and-so-am-i @worlds-tiniest-spook-pastry @slytherinsheashire @imanerddealwith @tinybrie @angelisalise @graduatedmelon @trickstermiraculous @ayuchan07 @thatrandomfandomsgirl @sweatyruinsstudentbored @chloe-bourgeois-is-big-gay

[curlyhairallday]

Bump and Dumps -Part Two

Here is part two hope you like it.

Hattie had quickly realised after jumping in her yellow vw beetle on her escape from Harry their memories together were so ingrained into her life there was no way to forget him even temporarily. Even her car which she had nicknamed sunny was a constant reminder of him, he had gifted her the car as a graduation present when she’d finished university. It had been her dream car since she could remember the old fashioned Beetle was such an iconic car in her eye and she had been blown away that her best friend had given her such an amazing gift. Her and Harry had also made many memories on the back seat of her car. As she began driving down the M25 she began to panic Hattie left everything in her life to chance she trusted in the universe to lead her the correct way. I mean why wouldn’t she trust it, for it was chance that had led her to Harry originally but right now as she was driving down the M25 she realised she had removed chance. For the first time in her life she had taken a decision into her own hands.

She took a deep breath as she neared her child home in a small countryside village on the outside of London. It was no ideal for her to commute to work but it would be a temporary solution to a massive problem. The next issue was explaining the situation to her parents as she pulled up outside her little home in the middle of nowhere she felt completely broken she had not lived at home since she had left for uni at 18. She grabbed Muffin and her handbag deciding to get the rest of her limited possessions tomorrow. Muffin stirred and began to meow in confusion she had only ever been but in her cat box for the short tube journey to the vets. Hattie quickly unlocked her parents door luckily she still possessed her key. She knew her mum would be in bed but her Dad would luckily be asleep on the sofa with a random documentry in the background.

She was right she saw her Dad snoring away on the sofa she put her bags and muffin down and cuddled up to her Dad.

“Claire?” her dad questioned groggily opening his eyes.

“Hattie? Wait what are you doing here.” he sat up starring up at his daughter confusion flooding his face.

“Missed you.” she sighed snuggling further into her Dad who quickly recipriocated.

After ten minuted of her and her father hugging in silence he spoke.

“Come on then lets get to bed.” Hattie grabbed muffin and her bag following her Dad upstairs to her small childhood bedroom which unfortunately still possessed poster of the one and only Harry Styles.

“Night Dad, I love you.”

“I love you too Harriet, we will discuss everything tomorrow ok?” she quickly nodding knowing her father knew something was wrong. I mean it was kind of obvious when his almost 24 year old daughter turned up at home at 11:30 at night.

She closed her door and let Muffin out her carrier, she decided that she should probably turn on her phone and alert Harry to her taking Muffin as she had forgotten to mention it and was worried he had not noticed the carrier as she had left. Immediately as her phone turned on it sprang to life 60 messages and 34 missed calls.

21 Missed Calls from Harold

4 Missed Calls from Gem

1 Missed Call from Jeffo

2 Missed Calls from Em

6 Missed Calls from Mitch

Her texts were no better, although a few were from work about a hearing on Monday and new elements to the case she was helping represent the majority were from Harry. Emily had messaged to say she knew I had told Harry and hoped I was alright and that I was welcome to my old room as she had never gotten a new housemate after I had moved out mainly as she had never needed one in the first place and Hattie knew the offer although it was genuine was from a place of pity. She began to read through Harry’s messages.

Please come back Hat, I didn’t mean to make you feel this way.

Can you let me know you are alright and safe please.

Hattie.

This isn’t fair you didn’t give me a chance to explain. It’s my baby too Hattie.

I am sorry baby.

Please come home, I love you.

Hattie I will give you tonight but tomorrow we are talking about this I won’t let you go.

The messages continued going between desperation, declarations of love and anger which was immediately followed by an apology. Although, Harry had a temper he always realised when it had revealed its ugly head and rein it back straight away. Muffin came and curled up on her chest as she began to sob the little fur ball was very comforting and always seem to know when Hattie was down.

Gemma had also messaged her offering a place to stay for a little break and had briefly even mentioned a congratulations on the baby and her excitement to have Hattie around forever. She knew Harry would confide in Gemma and although she and Gemma were friends she knew Harry was her first priority and she was glad that he had her.

Jeff had asked her to call him back or Harry and had even joked that there was little he could do with a emotionally broken rock star.

She kept reading Harry’s messages over and over finding comfort in his words but she knew she couldn’t do anything until she was no longer confused about him, her future and of course the baby. She sent Harry a quick message.

I am safe. Muffin is with me. I will call you sometime next week.

Harry was on the phone to Gemma when he saw her text he let out a sigh of relief, one because he thought that he had accidentally let Muffin out when he had gone to see if Hattie had truly gone and he knew how much that cat meant to her if he lost Muffin he may as well give up on ever speaking to her again. Although part of him had secretly hoped the cat had escaped so he could demand her to come back and search for her. Secondly, because he knew she was safe which was an absolute priority for him always had been thats why inside the house they had military level security cameras. He also installed the cameras so no matter where he was he could check she was safe he would also check she was up in the morning for work so he’d know if she was sick or running late which was something Hattie hated. He could also check she was safe home from work.

Over the three years he had tried to find a suitable match he had tried to set Hattie free he knew she couldn’t stand fame, the press or attention that's why he had always refused her to be his girlfriend. He knew he had been selfish to make her move in with him but at the time he had reasoned with himself that it was in her best interest but he knew its because he needed her. Every girl had not compared to her Camille was hopeful but she didn’t have the determination, wonder and compassion Hattie possessed. When she had first said she was pregnant he was so happy it meant that as Hattie would say the universe had confirmed he could have her. It no longer seemed like a selfish action to him, he hadn’t realised how rejected Hattie felt as soon as he realised when he was with Camille that Hattie had started to look for places elsewhere he had ended it immediately. This is what was leading to him getting into him car at 3am to drive an hour and a half to his love.

He panicked during the drive what if she rejected him? What if she doesn’t want the baby? He had fallen in love with the idea of a tiny human half him and half Hattie since the moment he met her. He was going to prove to her he did love him he did want her and he was no longer selfish he would even give up touring his second album for her and the baby if she needed him too. He’d give up everything if it meant he could have her because after three years of her he realised he couldn’t deal without her as cliche as it sounded.

Harry knocked on her door he was unsure what welcome he would get as not only was it 4:30am but he had also knocked up their daughter and caused her to leave in the middle of the night. He knew that if it was his daughter this had happened to he would knock out the guy.

“Hello Harry I expected you to not be far behind.” Hattie’s dad Simon spoke well Harry took the fact he didn’t seem angry as a good sign. Maybe Hattie had not disclosed the situation to her parents.

“Hello Simon, I am sorry it is so early.” Harry shook Simon hand and followed him into the little home. He had always loved coming here mainly due to the pictures of a small Hattie coating every wall. Also the smell of vanilla and cinnamon smell which was very closely linked to Hattie she made their own home possess the same smell.

“So why don’t you tell me what is going on? Hattie didn’t seem up to discussing things but seeing as it is just us men tell me why I should not make you leave right now. As it is obvious you have hurt my daughter.”

“Hattie is pregnant.”

Simon rose quickly from his seat his face turning red with anger.

“Tell me right now you did not tell her to get rid of my grandchild.”

“No no I would never there is nothing I want more.” Harry defended himself quickly imagining the chubby little baby a similar one to the photo of Hattie on the wall with chunky little fat rolls and a cheeky smile.

“I think she is confused. She doesn’t think what we have is enough.”

“What do you have?” Harry knew he had to tread carefully even though Hattie was a liberal spirit especially before she met Harry. He had told him stories of her losing her virginity at 4am with her next door neighbour a boy three years older than her at just 15 under the apple tree in her garden. Although, He knew her parents were very traditional every time he had stayed here they would be put in separate room as he would sneak in at 2am to hers.

“It is confusing but I love her. I really do please I need to make her understand. I want her I want the baby I would marry her tomorrow if that’s what she needs.”

“Hold on a second there. I think you should walk before you can run son.”

Hattie sat hidden on the stairs listening to there conversation sadly though she knew he was only panicke due to her leaving and maybe he was fearful she would hide the baby from him. She knew he didn’t mean those things because if he did, he wouldn’t have waited three years to realise.

Hope you enjoy Part 2. Let me know if you have any questions or want a part three. Also does everyone love Hattie as much as me wish I was her. T x

[el-mroko]

My girlfriend has a dog. Tequila. I have a dog. Freja. I have a cat. Loki. I also have rats. Was three of them, now, with agreement with my girlfriend we adopted two more. I love them and treat them equally. She loves them equally too I’m sure.

We treat them as OURS pets. Not hers and mine, ours.

I adore her empathy and love and caring for furry friends. That’s how we met.

But lately things got nasty. 

For some time now I feel like I’m the only one thinking about their well-being, taking care of them, feeding them (rats, cause my mom feeds the dogs at ungodly morning hours), cleaning after them or cleaning rat’s cage, or lately evening going for a walk.

She does that, or helps me sometimes, but only when I ask about it (often a few times before she finally does that). It’s like, she’s tired, she’s sleep deprived, she’s sick, not feeling well. Or we can do it some other time, we can do it later, there are more important things... I usually say fine if it comes to her health or fatigue, I understand she feels tired or hurt, and I do cleaning alone. Because it was mostly about cleaning rat’s cage.

But we both go to work.

I work for 7-8 hours a day. On different shifts. Sometimes it’s whole week on 8 or 12 or 14, sometimes it’s 14pm today and 8am tomorrow.

Her work is worse. 8 to 12 hours a day, night shifts, morning shifts, depends.

We live together, in my mom’s house. We both get to work by train and tram which takes us two-three hours per day. My workplace is one tram stop farther than hers. Frequently we wait for each other to return home together. She comes to my work and waits an hour or I’m doing overtime waiting for her. I love journeys with her, even if it comes to usual ride home.

Last week was hard on us. We’re having quite a serious renovation moving to a different room. Changing floors, painting walls, all that. We’re doing it ourselves as my family always did those things and was good at it. It wasn’t precisely planned. Nobody knew when would we start. It happened my younger bro is on a leave and I decided to take two days off - Monday and Tuesday - so we could do more things.

Kas, my gf, couldn’t take a leave, so she helped us after work as much as she could. She had free Tuesday. Unfortunately she had morning shift this whole week, meaning she had to get up at 4am to get to work on 6am, usually to 14.30 or 15.30 so she returned around 16-17. It’s exhausting, I imagine. Additionally, she doesn’t like her work. Doesn’t like people there - not everyone, obviously, but sometimes it’s hard on her.

I try to give her a lift to our train station - it’s around 10-15 minutes walk from home - or pick her up when she’s back. I admit, I tend to fuse about her waking me up this early, but I always get up and start a car, wish her good day and kiss her goodbye. Dammit, everyone would complain a bit. I always tell her to wake me anyway, I’ll just grizzle my part, but always take her to the fucking station. She wakes me only sometimes. This week she woke me up only yesterday.

I’m no sure it was because she doesn’t like bothering me, or because I was ill. I got sick leave from Wednesday because of my laringitis. I felt like shit this whole week, but I tried to do as much as I could, to help my bros and my mom.

Despite being sick, having a fever and sore throat, I spent whole days accommodating our room, arranging books and clothes and other stuff. I also tried to take care of our new rats - I tried to introduce them to my pack so they wouldn’t be bullied. I wanted to give them space and provide them all with runs. I also wanted to take our dogs out but I just wasn’t able to.  Kas was working at work, I was working at home.

When she got back on Wednesday - she ate dinner, opened a beer, and went to sleep, which was fully understandable cause she slept only five hours day before. We’re cuddling, but soon I knew I have rats to take care of, and another room to make up - the one we occupied till now, with total mess and two separate rat cages (they weren’t yet introduced, hence more cleaning...). When she finally woke up, I just said she promised to help me, and promised to hang my bookshelf.

The atmosphere was tense.

When she got back on Thursday, she hung my shelf so I could busy myself with arranging books and adding final touches to our room. Then she started relaxing after work. Again, I was the one taking care of rats.

She always calls to pick her up. Which I do, day by day, everyday. Except yesterday, when I wanted to take our two dogs for a walk, because they’ve been home for a WHOLE WEEK, since SATURDAY to yesterday WITHOUT a SINGLE walk past a FENCE. Only running on our yard (it’s quite big), couple times a day (I took them once, on Tuesday, when Kas was home, for a run in fields behind my home).

I called her, having both dogs on a leash, that I’ll come on foot with girls to get her. I met with such a NO response I was in shock. She wants a ride because she’s tired. Dogs can wait.

An hour.

A day.

Next week.

I said no. I took them for a walk but didn’t get to the station. I figured they deserved better than 15 minutes after a whole week in a closet.

What I heard after I entered home hurt my deepest feelings. It was a low blow I was not expecting from her, ever.

She said I cared more about dogs and rats than her.

Till now I try to understand how and why she said that. How could she say it about her own dog. How could she say it about our pets, pets, that are dependent on us, totally. 

Pets I try to fill only minimal needs, because she DOES NOT DO THAT.

The little one, the young rat was adopted ill. He required nebulization and injections. I cared about it. Then, he was bitten quite bad, I cared for that too. She didn’t even ask how’s he.

I bought our dogs a toothpaste, cause Tequila has much worse plaque than ever. And I’m the one using it, remembering and thinking about using it.

It does not matter if I’m on a leave, sick leave, or if I go to work. It doesn’t matter if I get back at 16, at 21 or 23. I take care of all those things, or at least I try, because almost each time I get back home and ask if anything was done, the answer it  “no”.

I make her coffee, tea, breakfast if we get up together, we do both or I’m the one making it. Dinner is up to my mom or myself, supper or lunch or any meal, it’s always me. I’m the one serving sandwiches.I’m the one packing dinner to work. I’m the one making dinner FUCKING VEGGIES for work. I’m here to rub her back, to give her a massage, find something she can’t, translate thing she does not understand, make her a cocoa while she plays a game, clean a room so she can play a ps4 without a dust on a console.

When it comes to dirty work - I’m always there.

But I care more about dogs and rats than her.

[sapphstudies]

100 Days of Productivity (19-24/100)

Fell off the wagon a bit this week because I’ve just been SO tired but recapping nonetheless

Day 19: Saturday. My friend was still visiting so we spent the day walking around the city to different museums and stuff she wanted to see. We were pretty tired from the day so we stayed in for the night and i showed her the first couple of episodes of Chilling Adventures of Sabrina. Unfortunately I didn’t get much sleep that night and then woke up at 7:30 the next day.

Day 20: Sunday. Woke up super early at 7:30 and my friend had to get ready to go so I did few errands while she got ready (went to the pharmacy, dropped off laundry etc.) Since we were both ready early we did a couple last minute stops for bagels and souvenirs on our way to the bus stop. I got back home around 2:30 and did a bunch of cleaning aired out the apartment etc. and then I had to rush to eat dinner and get to D&D at 5! D&D was super fun as usual we met our newest party member who also seems nice and we’re a full team now! The game is really starting to take off and I think everyone is having a good time. I had to take an accounting test when I got home which I ended up doing really poorly on which was a bummer. I was certain I understood everything since I had done really well on the homework and quizzes but there was a lot of material on the test we hadn’t covered before and I got confused by the wording of some of the questions. Luckily I was not the only one to do poorly so our professor is giving us a chance to earn bonus points! Now that I see the mistakes I made I’m going to do a notes review of the chapters which will hopefully help me do better on the next test and final.

Day 21: Monday. I turned in my final draft of an english essay and we got the assignment for the next essay. During my break I signed up for next semesters classes. I was able to get a couple of online ones which is great! And that night I set up a work schedule for the week. Unfortunately random things plus exhaustion keep getting in the way and I haven’t been able to stick to it that well and I’m little freaked about how much time I’m losing.

Day 22: Tuesday. Tbh I don’t remember exactly what I did on Tuesday and I didn’t use my planner much that day but I woke up a little late and went to therapy and then did homework for accounting homework for 3ish hours  before getting ready for a alumni cocktail party that night. I ran into a couple of kids I knew and we had a good conversation. I got some info on a school I might try to transfer too. I got home around 10/10:30 and was feeling pretty drained overwhelmed I think I just vegged out w/ The Good Place for a while. Not ideal. And then went to bed kind of late. Also not ideal.

Day 23: Wednesday. I spoke to my english professor during my break about transferring and got a lot of good advice and encouragement which was great! I got a small amount of accounting studying done during the remainder of the break but not a ton and I didn’t have access to my test results yet so I couldn’t really write up a notes review without knowing what I needed to clarify. After school I picked up a book at the library and went grocery shopping and cooked and had dinner with my sister. After she left I did some research on schools and made a checklist of admissions requirements and deadlines and then had a little self care night (took a bath, did a hair mask, shaved, etc) and read some MHA but I wasn’t paying attention to the time and all of that meant that I suddenly realized it was nearly 4am and I still hadn’t slept. whoops.

Day 24: Thursday/Today. I didn’t wake up until 11ish today cause of being up so late the night before and then went to therapy. I started writing this post and then had my massage appointment, which may seem a frivolous use of time but it’s a key part of my pain management, I came home had dinner and now I’m finishing this. This week has really gotten away from me in terms of studying because I’ve been so tired, and time consuming events and such keep coming up which leave me drained and unable to study. And tomorrow I’m going to a transfer student information for most of the afternoon and going afterwards to help my sister with some stuff at her apartment so I’m kind of freaking out at how little time I have but I’m going to do my best to get home at decent time so I can get a bit of work done in the evening and tonight I’m going to try to go to bed very early and get up very early so I can get a good bit of work done in the morning.

Most of the things that took up my time this week still had value even though they were not school related but I also haven’t gotten a lot of what I need to do done. I am re-resolving to get back on the productivity bandwagon and get as much work as I can done this weekend.

[xofanfics]

Choices - Part 3

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

Genre: angst, fluff

Pairing: Mark x Reader, Johnny x Reader

Word Count: 2k

*REQUESTED* Can you do a scenario where you are Mark’s classmate in college and he likes you, whilst Johnny who happens to be an upperclassman but was your tutor back in high school likes you too? And you are kinda torn between them and don’t know who to choose. You can put her up with anyone toward the end, your wish. I just want romance with both of them being into her and confusion on her part. TIA ❤

Johnny walked with you and your friends to the other side of campus, to your dormitory; Melissa and Mark walked behind you. Though you didn’t know it, Mark burned with jealousy. He wanted to be the one walking with you. You weren’t holding his hand or anything special, but he was still feeling jealous. He didn’t know for sure if things would escalate between you two or not after tonight but he was still uneasy, nonetheless. It seemed like he might like you. Either that, or he just had a flirty personality.

Johnny said, “I’m glad you came out tonight. I didn’t know you were into parties and stuff.”

You nodded. “Well I don’t think I’ll go out every day of every weekend but I like to party sometimes.”

“You were much quieter when we were in high school…”

“Well, yeah, I was awkward and still going through puberty. I’d say I’m doing much better now. Plus, you were my tutor. It’s not like we were best friends or anything like that.”

He said, “You’re right. I could still help you out if you’re still bad at science. You can just text me whenever you need help.”

You stuck your tongue out at him. “I'll think about it…”

Mark and Melissa walked into the dorm without waiting for you.

“Goodnight, Johnny.”

“Goodnight, Y/N.”

You waved playfully before going inside. You wanted to hug him or give him another kiss, even. But since he didn't make any move to hug or kiss you, you decided not to. The last thing you wanted to do was scare him off over something so stupid. You couldn't even determine if he had any feelings for you. He was probably just flirting because you'd all been drinking. You wouldn't know until you were both sober. And that's if he even brought it up.

You got back to the room. Mel was already in her bed, probably looking for a movie to watch on her laptop. Mark was gone, most likely to his room. You didn't blame it. It was 4am. You stripped out of your clothes, throwing them into the hamper before climbing into your bed.

Mel said, “So did you kiss again?”

“Nah.”

“Why not?”

“I have to see if he acts different when we’re sober.”

“Good point,” she said, turning back to her movie.

You woke up in the morning to the sound of Melissa shuffling in the room. When she noticed you were awake, she said, “Kevin invited us to eat breakfast. You coming?”

Rubbing your eyes, you looked at the clock; it was about nine. “Seriously?” You rolled back over, pulling the blanket over your head. “We just went to sleep.”

“Please come,” she whined. “I wanna have breakfast with Kevin...Just get up. You can go right back to sleep after breakfast. Mark said he'll come too. Let's just all go together.”

You threw off your blanket and mumbled, “Fine.”

Mark was still thrown off by last night. He wasn't going to lie; he was a bit hungover. He got up to use the bathroom this morning and that's when he saw the text from Mel to go to breakfast with the friends they made last night. He agreed to go. If Mel was going that probably meant that you would come too.

Then he remembered that you'd stayed outside with Johnny for at least a few minutes. Did he kiss you? Did you kiss him? He knew that he should confess that he liked you but how could he do it comfortably knowing that you and Johnny possibly liked each other? He couldn't confess to you yet; not until he knew if you liked Johnny or not or until he at least knew if you were interested in dating or not.

His roommate wasn't that concerned about having a girlfriend. He told Mark that he broke up with his high school girlfriend because they were going to different colleges and it would've been too hard. Mark didn't blame him. Long distance was hard, especially in college where there was so much temptation.

Mark never had a girlfriend before but he wanted to experience what it was like to have one. He much preferred to spend his time with one person rather than bouncing from girl to girl like a lot of your hall mates. It had only been about a week and you had already seen different girls going in and out of the rooms on your floor. Mark was also a virgin, so he couldn't relate to the guys that only seemed to be concerned about getting between a girl’s legs.

He put a pair of basketball shorts on with a t-shirt and slid on his Nike slippers before heading toward your room. You and Mel were waiting in the hallway, leaning on the wall.

“Morning guys,” Mark said.

“Morning,” you mumbles.

“Someone’s cranky…”

You looked half asleep but Mark still thought you were beautiful, in your mesh shorts, tank top and flip flops. He loved how you didn't care how you looked all the time and didn't bother to put on a whole face of makeup anytime you had to step outside. You were so down to earth and he loved that about you. Maybe that was why he was so drawn to you in the first place.

The three of you walked to the dining hall together, swiping your ID cards and heading inside to meet your new friends. You saw Kevin right away. He had a table with two other people you remembered from last night. He stood up, waving you and your friends over.

“Hey, Mark, Y/N,” he sang. “Glad Melissa brought you guys along.”

You smiled and excused yourself to grab some food before sitting down with your new friends. A few minutes later, you returned with a plate full of french toast sticks and some bacon with a bowl of strawberries. And you talked with your new friends over breakfast. You stayed in the cafeteria for at least an hour. Everyone talked, occasionally getting up to go to the bathroom or to get more food.

You got to know each other. From what you gathered, you liked these people and you could see yourself hanging out with them more often. And from the looks of it, Melissa and Kevin were getting pretty cozy.

Two weeks came and went, more quickly than you thought. You spoke to Johnny here and there, but it was nothing special. Maybe he didn’t like you. Maybe that night had just been part of the dare and nothing more. The kiss must not have meant anything to her, a mere dare that had to be completed so he wouldn’t look like a wimp in front of everyone else. Maybe having feelings for Johnny were meaningless.

You opened up your web browser to check your grades after class. Unfortunately, you didn’t do so well on your biology quiz. To be fair, you didn’t study as hard as you could’ve. You’d spent the night watching movies with Mark and Melissa instead of going to the library and studying like you said you were going to.

“What’s wrong?” Mark asked.

“I got a 60 on my bio quiz,” you whined. “If I can’t pass a stupid quiz, how can I pass the exam next week?”

Mark chuckled. “Don’t be so dramatic. You just have to review everyday, like me.”

“Are you saying you’re better than me?” you teased.

Mark put his hand on his chin. “I’m just saying that I’m a little more organized than you are when it comes to studying.” He reached across the library table for your notebook. “I mean, look...Your notes are all over the place. There’s song lyrics and scribbles in here.”

You snatched the notebook from Mark’s grasp. “Hey! You try sitting in that guy’s class for fifty minutes every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday.”

“I was just saying…”

“I’ll just sign up for tutoring,” you said. “I can always change my mind later.”

Mark nodded as you went online to the tutoring services and signed up for tutoring for biology once a week, on Fridays at two o’clock. A few minutes later, you got an email confirming the time and the tutor name. Without a doubt, it read Johnny Seo.

To be honest, you were a little annoyed that you got him as a tutor. If your feelings were mutual, this would’ve been good news. But you were positive that Johnny didn’t like you in the same way that you liked him. So, him being your tutor for biology was just whatever. You wished that you could’ve gotten a random person that you didn’t know as a tutor, just so you didn’t have to be reminded every Friday that the person you liked didn’t like you back.

But Johnny was nice to you, you had to admit. You guessed it was because you went to the same high school. And also because you were younger than him. Maybe that was why he didn’t like you. Maybe the two year age difference made him see you only as a friend or younger sister. That must be it, you thought.

“What’s wrong?” Mark asked, looking up from his computer and noticing your frown.

You shook your head. “It’s nothing, really. I got Johnny as a tutor…”

Mark was curious as to why you weren’t happy upon hearing the news that you were assigned him as a tutor. Did you not like him anymore? Had something happened between you too? He was really close with you at this point but he didn’t want to seem too nosy if he asked questions. So he stayed quiet, not mentioning Johnny or asking if you liked him. It was better off that way. If you wanted to tell him something, you would. He knew that for a fact.

Mark decided to ease into it. “Is that...bad?”

“I just don’t think he likes me. No big deal…”

“I’m sorry…”

You nodded. “It’s okay.”

He hated how sad you looked. He didn’t want you to be sad, especially not over some guy that didn’t even return your feelings.

“How about we go out on Friday? It’ll make you feel better. We can go to the fair. It started last weekend.”

That brought a smile to your lips. “Really?” Mark nodded. “I’d like that.”

Mark didn’t mention that he wanted it to be a date but he decided that it was too soon. He didn’t want to make it seem like he was only doing this because he realized that things weren’t going to work out between you and Johnny. He genuinely wanted to cheer you up, but he also harbored some feelings for you, feelings that you didn’t know about. Mark tried his hardest to hide them, trying to be a friend to you so that you didn’t discover how he felt about you.

He wanted to tell you how he felt about you but he also didn’t want to do it at the wrong time. He didn’t want to tell you that he liked you if you were into Johnny. If he had to wait, he’d do it. He’d much rather have you as his friend than nothing at all. It just sucked because he thought about how different things could be if only you knew and if only you accepted his love.

He’d treat you well. He knew that you never really had a relationship before; not outside the three week relationships a lot of people have in high school but never go anywhere with. Mark had had one of those too. He knew all of the things you liked and you even shared some deep things with him, going into the details of your parents’ divorce and how you and your best friend from high school hadn’t spoken since graduation night. You trusted him and he trusted you. It would be perfect and convenient if you got together; you lived in the same building and could see each other all the time, if you really wanted to. You could spent nights cuddling and hold hands while walking through campus.

But he couldn’t do these things; not yet.

[nzenk]

Maias came saying hi.

Sometime's it gets hard living in a society where you tend to express love by hate. Maias was raised that way, he couldn't do otherwise. Let's talk about Maias again, anyone missed him? I did. I miss talking to him, but he became hard to scratch, hard to conversate with. Let me introduce you to the new Maias, 5 years later. We all thought we saw hope in him, in the soul living inside of him. It's getting rotten, real rotten. It doesn't deal with human, it doesn't love, it doesn't return friendship, it doesn't feel. It had one thing left, loyalty. But it got rid of it as well. I'm here digging in the hope of finding something else still hidden in that unfix-able shell of his. Let us go back in time, let us go back to 3years ago, that's where he lost his first friend-making ability, that took him a lifetime to acquire. He never understood, until this exact moment, what exactly has happened. Was it him? Was it him as they keep telling? Does one get raised into what he become, or be born that way? He could never figure it out, neither could I. All was happening so well, you know, that college life everyone has, and everyone dream to have? Well, he kinda had it. At least it appeared to be. He was living alone at the time, with a roommate. He got his first love, or at least thought so. Maybe he just decided on experiencing that to see what he's missing. After all, it was pretty much not that great. He couldn't envy anyone on it, at last we got that out of the road. Relationships were not his thing, it wasn't what he dreamed about. Understandable. Not by society, but quite understandable. Now let's talk about what drove him to run into another girls arm. He felt comfort when he met her. She felt as cold as him. He saw many problems he could fix in her life. She was all smiley and happy regardless of her miserable background. He saw hope. They started meeting quite often, she was quite liked among her peers, he was quite a loner, but they had one thing in common. Coffee and unpronounceable problems. They often met for coffee at class breaks, they talked, and talked. They didn't talk about weather. But they seemed to dive in deep into the universe each time they met and their soul merged. Maias felt later, that he also got that out of the way. The long oh-so fantasized about romance and the famous photo of a couple entering into the void looking like universe and portrayed that as ultimate love. As the ultimate goal one should acquire. Maias understood, that it also wasn't what he were meant to aim for, as it had no taste to him. He acknowledge that through trying it different times, with different people, but never got any taste of it. Maybe it was the wonder of the first times. The first time he met someone he thought he'd understood, in the hope of that someone understanding him later on. But it didn't happen, Maias stayed quite the loner in his own mind. He moved on. Still in the same year all of it had happened. He had a friend, and a roommate. He also had a group of virtual close friends that he cherished very much. And he got the chance to meet them all since he came to live in their city. He would never have imagined his roommate and friend would stand between all that. Let's go back a year again, just for the sake of remembering how Maias was as a person. He had one friend. He chose to have one friend to hang out with at college and one back at home. The second one was not a choice, since he was a roommate, he had to deal with him. But the first one was pretty good of a choice. They were no personal entanglement, they were no childish behaviors. Everything was going so well with that one. Years later, it turned out that they both come from a similar background. That explains somehow the mature mind of both of them. Then again he didn't have anything to compare to, he had no base scale. He knew he had no base scale, but he was content with that maturity he was being blessed with. The one he had back at home, was, uhm, kind of different. The one Maias had at home was the exact opposite of the friend. His roommate was so lively, so social, an everyone knew where we were both staying at. People had the keys, they chose to come and go wherever they wanted. Maias? Well, he had different opinions. I mean, you gotta understand the guy, that little tiny room was the only place he could rest by himself at. He had nowhere else to rest. He didn't understand at the time, that people saw differently. People had families, had houses, had beds to go back to, he didn't have that back at home. Neither of them understood the other. Maias started getting angry, and angrier. He started throwing tantrums whenever he got the chance to. People were coming and going at 4am, knocking on doors at 7am, leaving tornadoes in his room for him to clean, by himself. He got tired of all of that. He changed the room.

—Maias on a break

—Maias is back

Maias realized, on his way to lunch, that he was there for a quest to find similar relatable traits to explain his own, as he was unable to identify with any of them. Through his quest, he met many. They somehow all managed to attract a side of him, that he thought, was what made him unique. You can only imagine the thrill of finding someone that understood that part of him. One thing he couldn't figure out, is why that exact magnet directed towards mysterious outcast people. Was tha the thing that made him feel close to some of them? Why exactly that? Did he used to feel outcast? But the thing is, aren't we all in our own little universes? I have this belief that each and everyone of us feels outcast, closed somehow, and unable to fully relate to any other self. This somehow helps me personally explain why everyone is rushing towards uniqueness, broadcasting it at the very single chance they have, to finally go and identify to a set group of other humans to only discover then that they lost every feature that made them feel unique and they have to re-calibrate themselves to identify with another smaller sub-set of people. And that my lads, infinitely. They don't realize that they're not the only outcasts, they're not the only ones thinking that way, but everyone else is, simultaneously. And as long as everyone is feeling this way, no one would ever get the chance to skip this universe's loneliness.

What makes us unique? Well, we ruled out music taste, we ruled out clothing taste, we're ruling out character eventually, we're ruling out backgrounds, we're ruling out problems, we're ruling out ideas, opinions, we're ruling out feelings, we're ruling out thinking abilities. What are we, really? Say we're one person, where does the need of meeting someone else rises from? Are they all just constant quests to understands one's self? Would we possibly be the same person? If the univer's that immense, are we just tiny particles passing by for imperceptible time? If so, why is that? What if the why to all things doesn't even exist? Are we the universe?

__Maias disappeared for half a week

__Maias will be back after reading some monday news

Maias has questions, more questions now. A religious month is coming upon her country's culture. Now, he has to deal with all the emotional bagage that comes with it. His mother seems to not accept being away from family, but doesn't seem to admit it. How could he deal with that? He should first let her acknowledge the problem, but nothing seems to be working. Now all he's doing is subtlety trying to make her every days happy somehow, she seems grateful, but her happiness aches Maias's heart. She just feels like she gave up. She throws off the feeling of finally giving up on life and waiting for death. How could someone 24 help a 57 person having hope in the future? Not letting her guard down and having aspirations? Well, Maias tried telling her Kentucky's story. Maias thought about forwarding that also to his father, lending him a little hope for his sixties. That didn't seem to work, as his father only took the punny parts of the story and laughed worrilessly. Let's go back to Ramadan, it arrived. The awaited month arrived, where families gather and make the tastiest sweets for Ftour time. Maias didn't have any family to gather, they were, and always (hopefully) will stay, a family of three thrown apart individuals. The dilemma that comes to mind with this time of the year, is how to split it between his father, his mother and himself. Unfortunately, no place for friends. Maias will return again, throughout this third person interview, and unravel how it all went at the end of the month. Don't worry, you'll be suspense free.

[weneverfreeze]

Sydney. My dear. I will love you forever if you write samnat for one of those au prompts you just reblogged (im feeling 1, 6, or 7 for them, but really any prompt is fine 😄😄)

Okay sorry this is late Mercedes! This didn’t get a reread, just so you know, and I started writing the ending at around 1 AM and it’s 4:30 (lolol it’s 4:47 now) in the morning right now, so yeah:

1.  I’m sleeping over at my friend’s flat from university after study group and just got woken up in the middle of the night by their roommate, who is sitting in the kitchen, listening very loudly to the dirty dancing soundtrack and crying. Like wtf, I didn’t even know they had a roommate and normally I would yell at you but damn you are cute. You really need to stop tho dude, its 4am, some people in this house want to sleep AU

6. We work out at the same gym and you are my declared rival because we have the same workout routine and you are always better than me and on my way to the locker room I passed you in the shower where you were singing the opening of hannah montana and I can still hear you and you switched to the lion king now and even though I hate you I think I am kind of in love with you AU

7. I’m hiding in the bathroom of a restaurant from a spectacularly awful tinder date and you are in a similar situation because a guy at the bar just won’t stop hitting on you and now we are planning an epic escape together even though we only met ten minutes ago AU

WC: 5747

There are two gyms on campus. Two gyms for nearly 40,000 people, so it stands to reason that you’d run into people very rarely. Two gyms, 40,000 people, seven days in a week, fourteen hours give or take each day when they’re open, four floors of exercise equipment and courts and weights and two pools per gym. This isn’t even factoring in her work schedule or classes, but somehow Natasha’s managed to run into this asshole every single time she goes to the gym. Out of both gyms and all the rooms and all the possible exercise routines. Every single time.

The first time she thought maybe it was just coincidence. It happens now and then of course, that someone comes in and has a similar routine to the one she’s perfected over the last six years. Last time it was Clint though, and that was first semester sophomore year, and that was only because Nat asked him. He’d complained the entire time about how hockey’s enough exercise for the both of them, and Nat I’m going to mess up my legs or my arms or my nose, okay, you remember how I got a concussion swimming. Clint came with maybe four times before deciding to do yoga by himself.

Since then Natasha had been alone in her workout routine. Thirty minutes on the bike, thirty doing weights, and thirty on the thigh machine downstairs on Monday, Wednesday, and Friday. Saturday’s for lazy laps in the pool when she isn’t making burritos at Chipotle. Her routine is simple and easy. In and out within 90 minutes.

But this asshole. Showing up all cocky and self-important. He’s been mirroring her pretty consistently the last month or so. At first it wasn’t that noticeable—he’s cute, maybe, in that sweaty sort of athletic way that she won’t pretend not to like, but she’s dated girls and guys like that before, so—just another body on the bikes a little down the row, or another person curling dumbbells, or another guy waiting for a weight machine.

Then it started being a thing. Nat had glanced over week 1.5 of this whatever-it-is at the same time he had, and they shared a nod and went back to biking. He seemed like an asshole even then. It was something, she figured, to do with how he wore cologne even when working out.

Then, week 2, it had been a very full Wednesday, and the only bikes were right next to each other. He was definitely looking at the display on her machine and she’d never tell Clint or Maria that that was the reason she was walking a little stiffly for three days afterward, because she definitely hadn’t been going a little faster than she should have been and checking his display as well.

Weeks 3 and 4 had been more of the same, except at week 3.5 she’d realized what exactly is so asshole-y about him: he doesn’t sweat, and he bikes further and can lift more than she can. (She’s better overall on the thigh machine, thank you, hockey.) Natasha would be over here straining to go up one last hill while he’d be pedalling easy as anything, scrolling through some article on his phone.

Natasha had been hoping when she walked in today that he wouldn’t be here, but no such luck, and he’d taken the machine she favors. She glances to her left; he catches her look, and raises his water bottle in an obnoxious salute. Inwardly she flips him off.

Only five minutes in. She readjusts her headphones. Five minutes in. She can do this.

The men’s and women’s locker rooms share a wall. Through numerous, painful post-workout showers, Natasha’s determined that unfortunately the wall must be dividing the shower sections of both locker rooms; someone’s been having a field day singing show tunes and pop music and rapping while she’s in the shower.

The variety, she thinks as hangs up her towel, is pretty impressive. Today the singer’s belting out Best of Both Worlds from Hannah Montana.

It’s not unpleasant today, which is surprising. The singer’s voice goes oddly well with the theme song.

The singer switches to Circle of Life. She joins in and they sing together until the water goes cold.

(It goes cold after six minutes.)

New Text Message

Clintyyy: Takeout?

Me: You’re buying

Clintyyy: Hey now, no

Clintyyy: It’s your turn

Me: Don’t make me bring up Budapest again

Me: You owe me

Clintyyy: ….fine

Me: Good

Clintyyy: Preference?

Me: Anything but tacos

Me: Chipotle has me sick of tacos

Me: You’ve never known true taco hatred until even just the smell makes you want to throw ingredients everywhere

Clintyyy: Please tell me you did not do that

Me: (read at 7:39)

Clintyyy: Tasha?

Me: (read at 7:43)

Clintyyy: We gotta pay rent still you’ve got a job right

Me: Of course I do

Clintyyy: Don’t do that to me

Clint’s got fried rice, lo mein, and crab rangoon waiting on TV trays in the living room when she shoulders through the doorway. Or, limps through; she’d done too much on the thigh machine again today, which she’s pretty sure Asshole Guy had noticed. Light from NCIS flickers over his face as he raises an eyebrow. A noodle is hanging out of his mouth.

“Don’t tell Steve,” she says. She plunks down next to him on the couch, pokes his thigh until he gives her more room.

He says, “That’d be embarrassing for you,” and she glares until he raises his hands in surrender. “I won’t, fine; just don’t kill me, okay?”

“Who am I gonna get to rent with me next year if I didn’t have you?” She opens the fried rice and quirks a smile and he bumps his shoulder against hers.

They’ve rented together for two years now after Natasha’s freshman year roommate gave her a photo album of her sleeping at the end of the first semester. She’d spent the majority of spring semester staying over at Clint’s room, which worked out nicely because Clint’s roommate Steve’s just about the nicest most stubborn guy she’s ever met, and he’d only asked them once if they were dating (they weren’t). Most other people have a look that says I don’t believe you when they say they’ve been friends as long as they’ve known each other, but Steve had just nodded and gone back to sketching his calculator.

“We should live with Steve next year,” she says, thinking; it’s October now, if they get a move on they should be able to get a nice place. She steals a bite of noodle from Clint’s container.

Clint pulls a face, but he holds the container closer to her. Nat offers the fried rice in return. “Nah, I’m good.”

She smiles. “To the rice or to Steve?”

He pretends to think about it, stroking an imaginary beard, and she leans into his side and waits. Onscreen Gibbs slaps Tony upside the head again.

“Both,” Clint says. She makes a face. “Kidding. Steve’s rooming with someone next year, they’ve really hit it off, so.” He tilts his head to the side like he’s deliberating and adds, “Or not kidding really, because that kid wheezes so much when he tries to sleep. Snores like you wouldn’t believe.”

“I was there, remember?” she says with a smile, checking the crab rangoon. “Do you want the last one or shall I?”

Clint waves it toward her and says, “What song today?”

She’s been keeping him updated on the gym since he refuses to go. He knows all about The Asshole and The Song Guy. He’s convinced that there’s a love story in the making between the three of them, but since she threatened him (half-jokingly) with a spatula, he’s been keeping that to himself.

“Circle of Life.”

Clint nods and shrugs appreciatively. “Good choice.”

She says, yawning, “Better than the week of Thrift Shop.”

“You love Thrift Shop.”

He starts playing with her hair and it’s so soothing she almost drifts off.

“I do,” she murmurs, yawning again—it feels really very nice—and curling closer. Clint unfolds the blanket along the top of the couch and pulls it over them. “That’s why it was so bad. He didn’t know all the words.”

Clint says something like “Neither do you” but she’s just about asleep now and doesn’t really hear him. Or at least, that’s what she’ll say if he mentions it in the morning.

New Text Message

1-347-867-5309: Hey Nat! Do you wanna study together Saturday?

Me: Who is this

1-347-867-5309: Steve

Me: Ohh right right

1-347-867-5309: You didn’t know it was me did you

Me: Of course I did

Me: I know everything

Steve: Sure

Steve: You’d think that

Steve: Since, y’know, we’re friends and all

Steve: You’d save my phone number

Me: Don’t be offended

Me: I’ve been friends with Clint for fifteen years and I only saved his number since coming to college

Steve: I guess that helps

Steve: Maybe

Steve: Not really. Anyway: study with me?

Me: Worried for the test?

Steve: A little

Me: Me too

Me: Where/what time?

Steve: My apartment? I’m off work at three, so four?

Me: Sounds good

Steve: See ya then

Asshole Guy isn’t there today. Today she’s got her machine again and the world is at peace once more.

To be fair, it’s Tuesday. She never knew for sure, but she strongly suspects Asshole Guy only works out Monday, Wednesday, and Friday, like her. But this week Fury has her working the night shift on the line, so Friday’s workout’s cancelled.

She probably shouldn’t be in today. Her inner thigh is still sore. Steve would kill her if he knew she was straining it—he’s a history and art double major, but, since his dad’s a trainer, he knows a fair amount of things. Including the fact that pushing a hurt muscle is a terrible idea.

Natasha knows that too, though, and it’s starting to hurt more than it had, so she sighs and lets the weights down gently.

“You alright?”

She whips around, ready with a snappy retort for another dude bro trying to tell her how to do her workout. It dies in her throat. Two gyms, 40,000 people, seven days in a week, fourteen hours, an entirely different day, no less, and yet.

It doesn’t help that The Asshole has nice eyes this close. He clears his throat, and that’s when she realizes he’s wearing the khaki pants, blue shirt, and red backpack of a student trainer. He says, “It’s Tuesday. You don’t usually—I mean, this isn’t your max weight, and you usually lift longer than this.”

He’s been watching. Nat raises an eyebrow. “Observant.”

“Part of the job,” he says. His cologne is sharply out of place with all the sweat in the air.

“You work here.” She regrets it the moment she says it; his eyebrows shoot straight up, then settle again. Of course he works here. No one wears khakis to a gym.

Instead of answering he plucks at the hem of his shirt and moves on. “Are you okay? I have to ask when someone lets the weights down like that.”

“Didn’t realize they were that loud,” she says, to have something to say. “I’m fine. Little sore from yesterday.”

The Asshole sets his backpack down and kneels to sort through it, all the while asking about her hydration and whether or not she’s eaten and you know, you’ve gotta rest between these kinds of things, you can’t do the same exercises back to back and expect to be totally fine.

This rubs her wrong. “My work schedule’s different this week,” she snaps. “I’m not an idiot.”

“Sorry,” he says mildly. He hops back to his feet holding a blue crinkly something. Natasha glares up at him and he holds his hands up before saying, “I know you’re not an idiot, just needed to say that. Job description and all that.”

She’s got her arms folded, so when he tosses the crinkly something at her she’s completely unprepared. It bounces off her elbow before she catches it, somehow, on the rebound. It’s a Nutrigrain bar. She stares at him.

The Asshole rubs the back of his neck and says, “It’s blueberry, not too bad if you—I dunno, if you eat that sort of thing.”

“Thanks…?”

“Sam,” he says, starting to walk away.

She says “Natasha” and Sam smiles and walks out of the weight room.

There is a profound silence from the men’s locker room. Today the water stays warm for exactly eight minutes before threatening to crystalize on her skin.

When she’s dry, she squeezes her hair with the towel and dresses. The Nutrigrain wrapper’s in her pocket when Nat pulls on her jeans. She’s not sure, really, why she’s still holding onto it.

New Text Message

Steve: Hey were you working out today? At the Heli?

Me: Yeah, why?

Steve: No reason

Steve: (Steve sent an emoji)

Me: The halo’s not reassuring Rogers

Steve:

Early Wednesday morning she wakes up in Clint’s arms while Tangled plays for the third or fiftieth time. Squinting, she looks up to see that Clint’s awake and bedheaded as ever; she’s still not sure if he styles his hair like that intentionally or if, thanks to the innumerable naps he takes, that’s just the way his hair grows.

She pulls the blanket over her more and Clint starts. “Sorry,” he whispers, grabbing for the remote. He mutes the TV (Rapunzel and Flynn are just about to be trapped in the mine) and Nat closes her eyes again.

“S’okay,” she says sleepily. “How long’ve you been awake?”

“Somewhere around Flynn finding the tower.” He stretches carefully, rests his arm around her again. “You were saying something about Sam? In your sleep.”

“Mmm. No.”

“I think so. Fell asleep with my hearing aids in, so.”

“Your hair’s stupid” is all she says. He lightly pulls on one of her curls, and they drift off again.

Steve has to poke her six times to stay awake in lecture around noon. She’s lucky to have him there; Clint would’ve let her sleep and drawn mustaches on her with Sharpie. It’s especially important to be awake today because they’re reviewing for the exam, and she’s got a 93% right now and this test could solidify or jeopardize that A.

That doesn’t mean she’s not leaning on Steve right now. She’s lucky she’s on her left because she’s right handed, and even though he is as well he’s not the type to complain when he’s helping someone. Plus his right arm is ever-so-slightly more muscular than his left, so it’s somewhat more comfortable to lean against.

He’s really bulked up in the last two years; freshman year Nat used to be able to fit his wrist between her forefinger and thumb. Not so much now. He has a Russian pen pal according to Clint—kept in touch since they were five apparently—and they’ve been FaceTiming and working out together. She and Clint aren’t really sure what exercises they’ve been doing—or how you can work out with someone over FaceTime—but it’s working for Steve at least; they’ve doubled their efforts to get him on their hockey team.

Steve pokes her again as Professor Stark rambles on about medical experimentation during World War II.

“I’m awake,” she says. Their redheaded neighbor, Pepper, hushes them, and Nat sticks her tongue out at her. Quieter: “I’m awake.”

“I know,” Steve says, “you snore.”

“Hey!”

“Shh!”

Steve holds up a hand to stop either of them from saying anything. He whispers, “Did you meet Sam? At the Heli?”

Natasha stares at him. “How’d you know that?” Their prof changes the slide and she hurriedly copies down the information.

“He told me,” Steve says. “Ran into a redhead on the weights, said it wasn’t abnormal but for the fact that you don’t work out Tuesdays.”

“I don’t, it’s be—”

“Because of work, yeah.”

Nat worries her bottom lip. “You know him.”

“From high school,” Steve says. He nudges her and winks when she glances up. “He’s a good guy.”

She elbows him back, but she’s blushing a little. “You can’t be too sure. He wears cologne to the gym.”

Steve throws his head back and laughs so loudly that Stark stumbles over his lecture and stares, aghast.

“Excuse me, in the back; do you find this subject funny?”

Steve’s really doing an admirable job of biting back his laugh, she can almost see it straining to chime out. He hangs his head in the model of a subdued and solemn student. “Of course not, Professor.”

Stark narrows his eyes and resumes his lecture, casting dark looks at them from time to time. Steve whispers, “Cologne? Really?” and Natasha barely stops herself from laughing too.

Clint leans in her doorway while she ties her sneakers. “C’mon, Tasha.”

“I go to the gym on Wednesdays,” she says, sighing a little when she stands; her inner thigh muscles still hurt from yesterday.

What Natasha means is, Sam goes to the gym on Wednesday. She’s been thinking about him almost all day. She got on the wrong bus this morning because she was trying to remember the shade of his eyes. She’s even—it hurts to admit this, even to herself—she’s even bought him a blueberry Nutrigrain bar.

Clint knows her well enough and is, in general, smart enough to hear what she isn’t saying. “I get that, believe me I do, but. You’ve gotta rest up. You can go back to kicking butt and showing off next week if you want, or Saturday, but you’ve gotta rest.”

If she had enough momentum, she’d be ducking under his arm and in the hallway and on her way. Clint catches her stare and shifts into a more solid stance, the one that makes him look intimidating in his hockey gear but right now makes him look bedheaded and earnest and like her best friend.

Nat says, “I don’t really wanna go, but I do,” and Clint smiles with half of his mouth.

He looks up and runs a hand along the doorframe like it’s the most fascinating thing, still smiling like it’s just for her. “Wanna get out?”

“Where?”

“Dunno,” he says, and shrugs.

Their university does movies for free at the Union, so that’s where they go. Every Wednesday through Saturday at 9 PM whoever’s in charge of the videos cycles through blockbusters that came out earlier in the year, usually on a few month’s delay. It’s always very energetic; the room seats 150 people, give or take, and that many college kids in a room tend to laugh and talk to the screen now and then in very audible whispers.

It’s Moana tonight. Natasha buys the popcorn and Clint does the butter and salt in an easy routine that they’ve established over the last decade and a half, one born from Natasha having a job and but sense of what to do with butter and Clint not having a job but the amazing ability, somehow, to properly flavor even the vaguely cardboard-y popcorn served outside the theatre.

She’s checking his work—flawless, as always; he can’t seem to miss the mark—when he says, “Oh, hey Steve.”

Clint takes the popcorn back, which is good because she almost drops it. Steve smirks at her but she barely sees him; Sam’s leather jacket is filling up her field of view.

“Hey Clint, Nat,” Steve says. “Nat, I think you know Sam?” Nat glares at him and he shrugs in an I’m sorry kind of way, which would’ve been fine if his eyes weren’t plainly amused.

Sam says, “We’ve met. How’re your thighs?”

Clint makes a noise that sounds like he’s got popcorn stuck in his throat at that. “Her thighs?” Steve doubles over, laughing a little breathlessly.

“Fine,” Nat says, ignoring Clint and Steve, but it’s okay because she and Sam have both gone red now. “Just. Taking a day off. Rest day.”

“Good, good,” Sam says. He’s wearing what Natasha thinks is his my best friend is an idiot expression; she recognizes it because she makes the same face about Clint.

She looks at them—they’re not paying attention anymore, Clint’s showing Steve something on his phone—and then back at Sam and says, halfway between annoyed and flustered, “Wanna find a seat?”

And he says, “Absolutely,” and they sit next to each other and, in the dark, she imagines that this is, maybe, a date. A daydream ruined when Clint and Steve stumble over them to get to their own seats and spill Steve’s drink all over the floor, flooding over the tops of their shoes and making the floor obnoxiously sticky when they shift their feet.

New Text Message

Steve: yknow tht Sam liks you

Me: Are you drunk?

Steve: cant get drunk rmmber

Steve: scince

Me: That’s not how science works

Me: Are you okay? Do we need to come get you?

Steve: nahhhhh

Steve: mfine. got Sam

(Steve added Clintyyy to the chat.)

Steve: CLINT tell her

Clintyyy: What’s with the caps man?

Steve: phone bein weird

Steve: does that

Me: Are you sure you’re fine?

Steve: i am not Sam he’s in lov

Steve: *live

Steve: *lpbe

Clintyyy: We got you

Steve: you knoe what I mean

Me: He’s drunk

Steve: mnot

Me: Like Budapest all over again

Clintyyy: Ah the memories

Natasha has twelve missed calls from Steve when she wakes up. She checks through them, straining to separate the synth in the background from Steve’s slurred speech, and makes a mental note to make Steve the DD from now on. Boy can’t handle his alcohol very well.

She also has a series of quick texts from a number she doesn’t recognize, and she smiles when she sees them: Got him home safe, don’t worry. Got your number from his phone. Don’t forget to hydrate.

Clint walks with her to the bus stop, very blatantly reading over her shoulder. She lets him. “‘Don’t forget to hydrate’?” he says, one eyebrow raised.

Nat just shrugs and shows her ID to the busdriver. Clint follows behind her. He wants to ask something, she can tell, so she waits and leans the back of her head against the window. He pokes a hole in the knee of her jeans.

The bus slows to a stop by the main lawn five minutes later and they get up, sling backpacks over tired shoulders. Nat’s class is a little bit of a walk from the stop but Clint’s is in one of the old buildings ringing the lawn, so they hug and go on their way.

But he’s running after her a beat later, and he asks, winded (he should, she thinks, probably come with her to the gym), “You like him?”

“Maybe,” she tells him.

Clint studies her with the certainty and ease that comes from knowing someone for awhile. “You do,” he says, like he’s found something worth finding.

She says, “Yeah,” and they smile at each other.

New Text Message

Clintyyy: Still up for it?

Steve: Yessss

Me: Why not

Loud, overly flirtatious and forward drunk frat guys. That’s why not.

Thirsty Thursday is always a little over-the-top, but somehow, today, it’s one hundred percent worse; they’ve walked the entirety of College Ave. looking for a bar that wasn’t overflowing but still quality. There are approximately seven different bars within feasible walking distance—that is, within the distance that a still somewhat hungover Steve, an exercise-loath Clint, and a Natasha in relatively high heels would be willing to walk to. Seven bars for 40,000 students, maybe only half of whom can (legally) drink, maybe only half of that half who don’t have classes Fridays and would be out around this time. And, apparently, all of those students are tipsy frat guys.

They don’t say anything to her, per se, never do, but they’d said things to each other about her when she and Steve and Clint walk by, and once was enough for her to dislike them on principle.

The three of them had planned for eight. Eight was a dumb idea, evidently, because the bars they would have no trouble getting into Monday through Wednesday at eight o’clock are filled with lines a block long.

“Should we just call it?” Clint asks in frustration. They’re at the sixth bar on the list.

Nat shakes her head. “Let’s try the next one. We’re out, we’re cute, we may as well. And I really have to pee.”

“Well said,” Steve says.

The seventh bar is called The Triskelion for reasons Natasha hadn’t cared to ask about. The logo is the same curving lines as her boss’ tattoo, and Fury never struck her as the type of person to welcome questions about it, so she’d shelved her curiosity.

It’s a little, low lit dingy place with graffitied walls and peeling paint. But the bar is clean and so are the tables, and there aren’t as many frat guys here—there’s a few other people at the bar and one or two couples who seem to be on dates, but no Greek letters—, so Nat thinks it’s perfect.

“What can I get you all?” the bartender asks.

Natasha looks and Clint and says, “Surprise me,” and heads off to find the bathroom.

“I got you,” Clint calls. She raises a hand to say she heard.

It’s surprisingly clean, the bathroom. It’s unisex, so there are urinals and stalls, but there isn’t as much pee everywhere as she’d expected for Thirsty Thursday. She’s washing her hands when the door slams open.

“—right back,” someone says, talking to someone outside, and then: “Shit fuck.”

Nat glances to the door and immediately wishes she was back at the bar. “Hey, Sam.”

He smiles weakly, rubbing the back of his neck. “How you doing?”

“Fine. You alright?”

“You, uh. Heard that, then?” Sam says flatly. She nods, waits. He sighs. “It’s my date.”

Now she really wishes she was back at the bar. The sentence bounces around her head a moment before settling uncomfortably on her stomach.

She says, “Sorry,” and pinches off bits of her paper towel.

“Yeah. Don’t know what I was expecting, it’s just,” he says, and now he throws up his hands, “everything’s gone wrong, she told me that I was ‘just the sweetest thing’ and ‘so soft’ and that I remind her of her dead chocolate lab, and she didn’t answer if I asked if it was because I’m black. I mean, I was kidding, but not now, clearly.”

“She sounds interesting,” Nat says carefully. “I’m sorry.”

“‘Interesting’ is a little milder than I’m thinking,” he says. “It’s my fault really, it’s Tinder and I was gonna call it off, but she sounded so sad in the messages.”

“What’re you gonna do?”

Sam looks around the bathroom and says sheepishly, “I was going to pop open the window, actually. But there isn’t one. So.”

“I’m sorry,” Nat says. On an impulse she takes his hand and squeezes it. “You can do this. It only has to be a one-time thing.”

He squeezes her hand back. “I’ll try.”

New Text Message

Me: Abort

Nutrigrain Bar: What happened? Are you okay?

Me: Frat guy at the bar hitting on me

Me: buying me a drink npw

Me: Steve and Clint in bathroom

Nutrigrain Bar: One sec

“Hold on, I gotta tell Clint and Steve, they worry,” Nat says a little breathlessly, leaning against the brick wall of the library. Sam starts to back away but she catches his jacket sleeve as a sort of tether. She sends her text one-handed and pulls him closer, and the second kiss is as nice as the first, and the third is better.

New Text Message

Nutrigrain Bar: I had a very, very nice time last night

Me: Me too

Me: It’d be a shame if

Me: You know

Nutrigrain Bar: If it happened again?

Me: Exactly

Nutrigrain Bar: Well

Nutrigrain Bar: We’ve always got out standing date at the gym

Me: That’s a good start

Nutrigrain Bar: Well hopefully we’ll have a good middle too

New Text Message

Stevie: Told ya

Me: I know

Stevie: For the record

Me: I knowwww

Stevie: ;)

Me: Shut up

“Details,” Clint says, his arm a dead weight around her shoulder; they’re both still feeling last night.

The NCIS opening credits play, but they’ve got the sound off. This is one of Clint’s favorite things to do, sit around and read the lips of the actors on TV shows. Nat’s favorite part is when he gets bored of it and starts making up his own lines.

She tucks her knees close to her chest and leans closer to Clint. He mumbles Gibbs’ line, “Grab your gear,” and she says, “Doesn’t count.”

“Does so.”

“He says it,” and here she yawns, “every episode.”

Clint tugs on her sleeve. “It counts. It’s like the free space in Bingo.”

“Gonna pretend you didn’t say that, Barton.”

“Gonna pretend you aren’t dodging the question, Romanova.”

“You didn’t,” she says, yawning again, “ask me anything.”

“Don’t be a McGoofus, McGee” is what Clint says next. Then: “Fine. Details?”

Remembering it gives her goosebumps. She smiles. “About?”

Clint groans and buries his face in a cushion while she laughs harder than she would normally. His voice is muffled as he says, “The kiss, Tasha, the kissing, the Frenching, snogging, whatever.”

“You mean like, how was it?”

“Yes.”

“Good.”

“Tongue?”

“Maybe.”

New Text Message

Steviesteviestevie: Okay I’m presentable now

Steviesteviestevie: Are you almost here?

Me: Just got off the bus

Me: Be there in 5

Steve flings the door open wide and drapes himself against it, saying, “Welcome to my humble abode.”

He’s ridiculous. “You’re always so dramatic,” Nat says, laughing in spite of herself. She crosses the threshold and Steve closes the door behind her.

She’s never been in Steve’s apartment before. It’s about what she would’ve expected for a student on a college budget: small living room with a small TV and bookcase, small kitchen, small bathroom with a corner of the mirror missing. A hallway leads off the living room and has three doors, one being the bathroom, one Steve’s room, and then a closet, maybe.

He spread out cool ranch Doritos and Oreos and lemonade on the counter. After handing her a (paper) plate, Steve piles huge handfuls of the Doritos onto his own plate and sits.

The Doritos are now half empty. “You should’ve just taken the bag,” Nat comments. She deliberates for a second and then just takes the Oreo tray to the table.

“There’s time,” Steve says. “We’ve got a lot of studying to do.”

Nat plunks her notes and books onto the table. “That we do.”

Two hours later, Natasha hits the wall.

Thirty minutes after that, Clint texts her about an NHL game, so she commandeers Steve’s TV and watches that. Steve abandons his homework and joins her on the couch and they yell at a few missed calls, and she finally gets him to agree to join her and Clint’s team (thereby allowing her to win a twenty dollar bet).

Around nine, a Mythbusters marathon starts. Natasha and Steve have a competition to see who can stack and eat the most Oreo filling. Steve wins, but only because his mouth his bigger.

At ten Steve’s Russian pen pal FaceTimes him, and, after exchanging hellos in Russian, Steve introduces him to Nat. Steve’s pen pal has long hair and the unlikely name of ‘Bucky’ and is surprised when Natasha takes to him exclusively in Russian.

Sometime after that Natasha’s alone on the couch, and while the Mythbusters team blows stuff up onscreen, she falls asleep.

She hears it and holds a pillow over her head in sheer stubborn refusal to be awake. When she moves, her arm threatens to fall off; sleeping on the couch never really works out for her unless she sleeps on someone.

The lights are off in the apartment. Careful to keep her ears covered, she peeks at the TV and sees that someone turned it off. The singing’s coming from the kitchen, then. If she focuses extremely hard she can just make out the pitch on the voice, and from what she knows from several painful karaoke nights, Steve’s voice isn’t this nice to listen to. Even if it’s waking her up at—she checks the clock on the bookcase—four in the morning. She blearily considers the possibility that Steve’s being robbed.

Whoever’s singing (a musical burglar?) is getting into it. Their words filter through the pillow now: “Just remember, you’re the one thing I can’t get enough of”.

That’s it. She throws the pillow across the room and storms into the kitchen.

“What the hell are you—” That’s when she sees Sam.

He stops midword in surprise. “Nat?” he says, uncertain. “Why’re you here?”

She crosses her arms. “Why’re you here?”

“I asked first,” he says, yawning.

“Studying.”

He says, “Sleeping.”

This more than anything annoys her. “Trying to,” she says pointedly. “Was sleeping.”

It seems to take him a moment to put together what she’s saying. “Oh. Sorry.”

“Your turn.”

“I live here?” He raps his knuckles on the back of a chair.

She’s not awake enough for this. “Here?”

“Steve and I are roommates,” Sam says.

“I thought—” she yawns “—thought he lived alone.”

Sam says, in a tone too bright for this time of morning, “Nope.”

“Why Dirty Dancing in the kitchen? Can’t you practice in, I don’t know, the car? The shower?”

Sam looks at her oddly. “Yeah,” he says. “I do,” and this time it’s Nat who takes a moment to understand what he’s saying.

And then she puts it together. “The gym.”

He nods, smiling slightly. “Thought you knew.”

“No,” she says, rubbing her eyes. It’s too early for this.

“Shame.” He looks very determinedly at the ceiling. “I was trying to woo you.”

She laughs. “Through the shower.”

“Wasn’t sure what else to do,” Sam says, shrugging. But he’s smiling, and she thinks that maybe she’s found something worth finding.

“You’re an idiot,” Nat says.

He says, hopeful, “That mean it worked?”

“Maybe,” she says.

New Text Message

Me: Made it back fine, thanks for asking

Nutrigrain Bar: Good :)

Me: And it worked

Me: How’s Wednesday?

[justsomegirlwithgreenhair]

Journal: 1/06/19-1/09/19

Well Sunday was amazing, actually well that whole weekend was but specifically Sunday because we went to the Zoo and I LOVE the freaking Zoo, all the animals are so precious. I just love seeing so many different types of animals plus on the way there we looked for abandoned places and we found so many so i’m also freaking excited to explore those. Unfortunately since we had to hurry to make sure we could see all of the Zoo we didn’t get to really look at anything up close yet, but that’s okay. Anyways, while we were at the Zoo a Snow leopard came right up to the glass and was walking back and forth. There was a zookeeper there that said she/he(i can't remember) likes to yell a lot at the top of the rock(which was like 15 feet high by the way) and maybe we’ll get lucky to see it, and literally right after she said that the big kitty climbed right up the wall and started meowing like there was no tomorrow. It was adorable and pretty astonishing, the Zookeeper said it was feeding time and the kitty probably saw her and knew that it was getting to be that time. It was such a cool experience. We got to even ask some questions too so I got to learn a little about them as well (’: i’m so excited to go back honestly. 

Monday is kind of a blur but i’m pretty sure it was a good day to some extent considering I haven’t really had any bad days lately except yesterday but i’m not to that yet. Annddd suddenly just remembered I actually did laundry that entire day because I have to wash some stuffies. Yeah it was actually nice. I’ve started gaining a relationship with my mother finally after years of arguing and fighting with her constantly(thanks past self) and my mother actually vented to me for the first time in my life and it honestly made me feel good because my mom and I have never been comfortable venting to each other and now we are to an extent. I also talked to her about some things that have been bothering me lately and she gave me some really good advice so there’s that. My Daddy actually came home early that day and it was nice because I got to go home and cuddle him and watch movies.<3 So yeah, good day i’d say so far.~

Tuesday was a wreck, I woke up around 4am overheating like hells asshole. I immediately had to sit up and tell my daddy to grab me the trash can because i was going to puke/pass out if I moved. He did but I didn’t even puke I just dry heaved and then finally I ended up puking but it was literal stomach acid? I drank a little bit of water and an hour later I ended up puking it all up. I was able to stop myself from getting sick by using my cbd pen, finally able to keep something down. Continued to do that for the rest of the day so I wasn’t nauseous, and it helped a lot. I thought maybe i was better but then last night I woke up in the middle of the night again overheating again, but this time i didn’t get sick so that’s the plus side. 

I’m going to try to have a good day today even though my stomach is an asshole. My body is trying to save me from something but i have no clue what the hell is wrong with me lmfao.   

[chicagofoodaffair]

Tokyo, Japan

I am not sure why, but I had always been drawn to Japan. I originally went on a group tour around part of the country. Initially, I had the philosophy of only going somewhere once, unless I had already finished seeing all that I needed from the world. So far, this is the only place that I made that exception.

My first tour here ended in Tokyo, but I had only spent half a day here and had to leave first thing in the morning back home. Our hotel (Prince Park Tower Hotel or Tokyo Prince Hotel…I couldn’t remember the exact name) was near Tokyo Tower. We were not able to see as much as we wanted in that short period of time.

We booked this trip for a few reasons: It was my husband’s and my fifth anniversary together, and it was a collective birthday present for us (as we both have birthdays in April). Plus, my brother had always wanted to go during cherry blossom season.

Saturday, April 7, 2018 – Arrival

We arrived at Narita Airport on a VERY windy day (as in “first-time-getting-motion-sick-on-a-plane-type-of-windy.”) Clearing immigration and getting our bags didn’t take a lot of time. However, we were planning to get our Tokyo Rail passes at the visitors’ center, and by the time we finished with customs, the desk was closed (missed by 5 minutes, at 8:50pm). It was evening, we were tired, and I didn’t feel like figuring out the rail ticket machine. Besides, the last time I was here, the ride from the hotel to Narita wasn’t that much.

Boy was I wrong!

The charge for the taxi ride from Narita to Ginza, Tokyo, was upwards of $250!!!

Later, I was reminded that we had a shuttle from the hotel that we were at to Narita (oops).

Moral of the story here: Learn from my mistakes and do your research on transportation options before arrival.

Now that we have taken care of our PSA moment, on to the rest of the story!

We arrive at our hotel, Mitsui Garden Hotel Shiodome Italia-gai (2-14-24, Higashi-shimbashi, Minato-ku, Tokyo, 105-0021). It is minutes away from Ginza, Tokyo Tower, Zojo-ji Shrine and the Imperial Gardens. They also provided a free loaner smartphone that guests could use to make and receive calls, as well as for email, GPS and social media services. I mostly used it for GPS to navigate through the city.

We were also next door to a Lawson Station, one of the popular convenience stores – along with 7-Eleven – in the country. What was different about these convenience stores is that they carried more variety of foods, including hot food. It has been the locals’ favorite for fresh, convenient food. They are open 24 hours a day, which helps if a worker has an early 4am start or if they are just getting off of work at 10pm. Also, just like back here, there is one Lawsons’ or 7-Eleven on every other block (at least in Tokyo).

7-Eleven has their own set of ATMs, which I found to be the only ATM that worked for my Chase Card. The only downside is that the minimum amount available for withdrawal is 10,000 JPY (about 100 USD). This is important because not every place accepts credit cards. There are a good number of stores and restaurants that take cash only. This leads to PRO-tip #2: Bring cash.

Sunday, April 8, 2018: Tokyo Station, Sensoji Temple, Akihabara

So, our first stop was to acquire our rail passes (for clarity, the passes for me and my husband – my brother arrived earlier and received his already). Plus, it gave me an opportunity to test run the loaner phone from the hotel.

One of the Stores in Tokyo Station (Looks Familiar, Can’t Put My Finger on It…)

Once we had reached Tokyo Station, we were able to get our Rail Passes (yay!) The station has a number of restaurants in the lower level. Ramen Street is a stretch of restaurants in the basement level. Some will be traditional restaurants where they seat you and serve you. Others had a vending machine where you would put in the money, make a selection of what you want to eat and then it would print out the receipt for you to give your server or the cook. One such place was Rokurinsha on Ramen Street.

Dipping Ramen (with Tonkotsu)

Once we were fed, we continued on our trek. We started at Sensoji Temple (2 Chome-3-1 Asakusa, Taitō, Tokyo 111-0032, Japan). It was pretty crowded for a Sunday. It was a beautiful day though.

The Meiji Temple

The Main Gate

Nearby Street Market

We then hopped on the rail to Ueno and onto Ueno Onshi Park. We were on a mission to find cherry blossoms. I had heard that they had already bloomed, but there were some late bloomers around still. We were lucky to find some there!

Having a Picnic Under the Sakura Trees

We also wanted to look for a cat café. According to the GPS, there was one nearby: Neko Maru Café Ueno (7 Chome Ueno, Taitō, Tokyo 110-0005, Japan). There was a fee schedule, but the one we chose was 30 minutes for $6 USD. They had coffee and tea, as well as some snacks. They also had a few bookcases so you could sit and read while surrounded by the cats. If you want, they also had kitty toys to engage with the cats/kittens in house.

Welcome to the Kitty Cafe!

Cafe Menu and Helper

There are Enough Boxes for Every Kitty!

Shh! Do Not Disturb!

This is Part of their Elevated Cat Walk

Pretty Fur-Baby!

Beautiful Bengal

Next stop: Akihabara to check out the electronics district.

Inside the Sega Building – they have these types of games on the first 3 floors

These Remind me of the Slime blog-things in Dragon Quest

The streets were closed for the shoppers.

Proof of Life!

Interesting KitKat Variety

We noticed that some electronics were more expensive there than online. Only exception seemed to be those from Japan, and the prices seemed more fair.

After some shopping, we started back towards home for dinner and to sleep off some of the jetlag.

Salmon with Rice, Miso Soup, Pickles, Salt Cod Roe, and Egg

Monday, April 8, 2018: Mt Fuji

We went on a day tour through JAPANiCAN. Our first stop was the Mt Fuji 5th Station.

Unfortunately, we didn’t have as clear a view as we had hoped. It was also 1 degree below Centigrade when we were there, so just a little cold!

Mt. Fuji is Behind those Clouds Somewhere!

Next stop was at Oshino Hakkai. The snowmelt from Mt. Fuji formed several fresh water springs in the area. It’s also a cute little village where we were able to get another view of Mt. Fuji. The sun had come out and some of the clouds were starting to clear.

Mt. Fuji is starting to Peek Out thru the Cloud Cover!

There were some shops along the street – some selling food, others selling souvenirs.

These were very yummy BBQ Beef Skewers

Our next stop was Shiraito Falls. The falls are fed by the snowmelt from Mt. Fuji also. There were also a number of shops in the area, including soft serve ice cream.

Green Tea/Vanilla Mixed

Main Waterfall

Fujisan Hongu Sengen Taisha Shrine. The head shrine for Sengen and Asama shrines throughout Japan.

Shrine Entrance

The White Ties and Wooden Tags are All Wishes

Shrine’s Lagoon

A Much Clearer View!

Happy With the Sight!

On our way back, our tour guide informed us that Mt. Fuji can be clearly seen 60 to 65 days out of the year (so we were lucky!)

For dinner, we stopped by one of the restaurants nearby our hotel – Akami Yakiniku Horumondokoro Nikuman. (1-23-6 Hamamatsucho, Minato 105-0013, Tokyo Prefecture).

We were seated at the bar. Each table/seat had a mini grill and a vent right above it. We decided to share the Tonya place.

Since the meat is thinly sliced, it was cooked quickly.

With full stomachs after a full day, sleep came easy.

Tuesday, April 10, 2018: Tsukiji Fish Market, Namiyoke Inari Shrine, Hachiko Memorial Statue, Shibuya Crossing, Meiji Shrine, Ginza

Tsukiji Fish Market is a famous market located in Central Tokyo. It is the largest wholesale fish and seafood market in the world. As part of development for the upcoming Olympics in Tokyo 2020, the fish market is slated to be moved Toyosu, Kotu in the Fall of 2018. If you can get there anywhere from 3am to 5am, you can observe the tuna auction (we opted not to do that). If you do decide to go, it is highly recommended to wear rubber boots.

There is two parts of the market – the Inner Market, where wholesale vendors are located, and the Outer Market where people like us can purchase items in more manageable numbers.

Tea Vendor

We wanted to find one, if not two places to eat. So our first place was here (apologies, I’m not sure what it translates in English).

I felt like we were lucky because it wasn’t so crowded here, nor was there a line for us to wait in. As far as the food goes, I had once heard that “Fish should taste like the sea, and if it doesn’t, then it is no longer good.” The fish that we had here tasted exactly like the sea and I was extremely happy.

Traditionally Wasabi is In Between the Fish and the Rice (and they used FRESH Wasabi!)

After our sushi brunch, we continued walking through the market. Where a variety of items were up for sale as you can see here:

We came across another set of restaurants with long lines.

Apparently people lined up since opening to eat at these places.

After a few hours of walking and shopping, we decided to try another sushi place. This was located just outside the market, called Iwasa Sushi (6 Chome-27-3 Tsukiji, Chūō, Tokyo 104-0045, Japan). Incidentally it was highly rated on tripadvisor.com, so we wanted to see if it lived up to the hype. They have a set menu, and you basically choose between three or four different sets of sushi combinations. They only have seats at the sushi bar and they only accept cash.

Our Sushi Chefs

When we were done, I made a quick stop at Namiyoke Inari Shrine. Its name literally means “protection from waves.”

After that, we dropped off our purchases at the hotel and headed towards Shibuya.

Our first stop outside the Shibuya Station was the Hachiko Memorial. Hachiko was an Akita dog that was owned by Professor Ueno Hidesaburo from Tokyo Imperial University. Hachiko would meet Professor Ueno at Shibuya Station at the end of the day, and it became their routine. One day, Professor Ueno had a cerebral hemorrhage at the University, and never came home. However, Hachiko would go to the station every day for almost ten years. This statue is a symbol of the loyalty and love that Hachiko had for Ueno. Fun fact: Hachiko was present when the statue was unveiled.

There was a LONG line for taking pictures with the statue, so I improvised. The important thing was that I was there.

Now, there is a famous intersection near this statue that maybe the busiest intersection in the world: Shibuya Crossing. The lights turn red/green at the same time to control the pedestrian traffic. Even though there are crosswalks, when the light turns green, the intersection gets swarmed by people.

We crossed and survived (phew!)

We were walking through Shibuya in order to get to Meiji Shrine. In our walk, we encountered these:

For Those Who are Familiar with Sutadonya at Mitsuwa in Arlington Hts…

Stan Lee would Approve!

Meiji Shrine is a Shinto Shrine that is surrounded by a forest, and was built to honor Emperor Meiji and Empress Shoken.

Camphor Tree

After that, we went back to our hotel to freshen up a bit before dinner: Itamae Sushi, Ginza Corridor (J Bld.1F, 8-2-13, Ginza, Chuo, Tokyo, 104-0061, Japan).

The City Never Sleeps!

Our Sushi Chefs at Ita Mae Sushi

  Fresh Seafood Salad

Sushi!

Menu Said “Live Squid” but I think they meant “Raw Squid” with Wasabi vinagrette (it was still good!)

So far, the only critique that I had was that they used powdered wasabi (what can I say, I was spoiled from the fresh wasabi from earlier today). However, the taste made up for it. I would have to say that the first place we ate at today and Itamae Sushi were the better of the three places we ate today. Wednesday, April 11, 2018: Zojo-ji Shrine, Tokyo Tower, Departure

We had a half day left here in Tokyo. I decided to do a quick stop at Zojo-ji Shrine and Tokyo Tower before we left.  There is also a mausoleum where the most loyal samurai are buried as well.

If Zojo-ji Shrine looks familiar, its because it was in the movie “Wolverine” (2013)

And Here I Have Come Full Circle!

In case you were wondering what I was doing at all those shrines, it was because of this: my notebook filled with Goshuin, which are unique stamps/seals and calligraphy from the temples that I had visited. I had been introduced to this during my first visit here and acquired quite a collection!

Alas, our trip had come to an end, but our hearts are full with the memories that we had made. Thank you for reading, and I hope that this inspired you for your next adventure!

–Maeven

Resources:

Mitsui Garden Hotel Shiodome Italia-gai. 2-14-24, Higashi-shimbashi, Minato-ku, Tokyo, 105-0021 https://www.gardenhotels.co.jp/shiodome-italiagai/eng/

Lawson Station (various locations). http://lawson.jp/en/

7-Eleven (various locations). http://www.sej.co.jp/in/en.html

Tokyo Station http://www.tokyoinfo.com/en/

Rokurinsha. https://www.yelp.com/biz/YD4NquiK0mPR_WMse5KPOA?utm_campaign=www_business_share_popup&utm_medium=copy_link&utm_source=(direct) http://www.rokurinsha.com/ (Japanese)

Neko Maru Café Ueno. http://www.nekomarucafe.com/index.html

1-Day World Heritage Mt. Fuji Tour. https://www.japanican.com/en/tour/detail/BUS1J00711MKS/?typecd=TOU&destcd=V21&kw=golden&sbit=4&typegrpcd=TPA

Akami Yakiniku Horumondokoro Nikuman. 1-23-6 Hamamatsucho, Minato 105-0013, Tokyo Prefecture. https://www.tripadvisor.com/Restaurant_Review-g1066451-d6047847-Reviews-Akami_Yakiniku_Horumondokoro_Nikuman-Minato_Tokyo_Tokyo_Prefecture_Kanto.html

The Tsukiji Fish Market. 5 Chome-2-1 Tsukiji, Chūō, Tokyo 104-0045, Japan. http://www.tsukiji-market.or.jp/tukiji_e.htm

Hachiko Memorial Statue. 1 Chome-2 Dogenzaka, Shibuya, Tokyo 150-0043, Japan.

Hachiko. https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Hachik%C5%8D

Meiji Shrine. 1-1 Yoyogikamizonocho, Shibuya, Tokyo 151-8557, Japan. http://www.meijijingu.or.jp/english/your/1.html

Itamae Sushi. J Bld.1F, 8-2-13, Ginza, Chuo, Tokyo, 104-0061, Japan. http://itamae.co.jp/english/

Zojo-ji. ４丁目-7-35 Shibakoen, Minato, Tokyo 105-0011, Japan. https://www.zojoji.or.jp/en/

Tokyo Tower. 4 Chome-2-8 Shibakoen, Minato, Tokyo 105-0011, Japan. https://www.tokyotower.co.jp/en.html

Wanderlust Wednesday: Trip to the Land of the Rising Sun Tokyo, Japan I am not sure why, but I had always been drawn to Japan. I originally went on a group tour around part of the country.

[kat-mill]

The Handsome Stranger

A few weeks ago I went to DisneyWorld with my mom and sister for a long weekend. It was an amazing weekend filled with everything Disney with a splash of Harry Potter. Sadly the weekend had come to an end and we headed to the airport on that Monday. We had planned the flights so that I was flying directly to San Diego and my sister and mom were flying directly to LA. It was perfect because the flights were about an hour apart from each other so I was only going to be alone for a short time. My mom and sister got ready for their flight so I grabbed something to eat and sat near my gate. After I ate, I listened to music and waited to board the plane. While I was sitting there I saw the Handsome Stranger sitting across the way. I smiled and thought damn that guy is cute. Of course being by myself I could not talk to anyone about this stranger so I tweeted.

I continued to look over to him every so often and watched him talk to those around him. He was wearing Eagles attire and it being the day after the Super Bowl I figured he was stoked that his team won. I thought of all the things we could talk about if we sat next to each other on the flight. I then hoped and prayed he would sit next to me. I continued to wait for my flight.

As I sat there I noticed something odd. I noticed my mother, who was supposed to have already taken off, walking to the bathroom. I called her over only to have her tell me their flight was delayed and they had no idea why. They couldn’t find any attendants from frontier so the entire gate on their side was waiting. I couldn’t believe that it had been almost an hour and they hadn’t taken off. It was nuts. She ended up going back to the gate and I told her to keep me posted. Shortly after attendants came to their gate and they started to board. About that time we prepared for boarding at my gate. 

Being zone 1 I was one of the first to board. I got my things and continued to hope that the Handsome Stranger would sit next to me. An older man sat at the aisle in my row and I watched the Handsome Stranger enter the plane and walk straight to the back. Saddened I turned up my music and tweeted.

I continued to wait for take off and turned my phone on airplane mode. After everyone boarded we continued to sit at the gate. We waited and waited to the point where we sat at the gate for an hour. We were informed that there were mechanical issues that needed to be worked on. I ended up turning my phone back on only to receive a text from my sister that they too hadn’t taken off. I tried to text her back but came to realize that by then they had taken off around 7:30pm. I, on the other hand, was stuck on a plane at the gate. I went on twitter and replied to my friend who had responded to my tweet. 

At around 8pm we started to head towards the tarmac. By that time I had made friends with my aisle buddy, who was visiting Florida for a AA conference and the woman in front of me who was visiting her father, and the woman behind me with her grandchildren. We chatted about our lives and the AA guy was super friendly and loved to talk. By the time we got to the tarmac everyone was ready to take off. The captain came on the intercom and told us we needed to go back to the gate because there was still an issue. We went back to the gate and waited another 15 minutes before they told everyone that we needed to deplane. As we exited I went to the charging station near the gate to charge my phone and relax before re-boarding the plane. As I sat there I noticed the Handsome Stranger sit near me. I immediately got excited and nervous all at once. While waiting for updates on when we could board I went ahead and made the first move. I mentioned to him that he must have been excited about the Eagles winning the Super Bowl. His response: “I was there!”. We continued to talk about the game and how crazy it was. I came to notice how genuinely sweet this Handsome Stranger was. He was so nice and I felt as though we could be friends. You know when you meet someone and you automatically click...I felt that even from this brief interaction. After a 10 minute conversation we went about our business. Then at 9:15pm they deemed our flight cancelled. We looked at each other and laughed. We then made small talk about finding other flights and what we would do about the next day. It was then that I found out he was engaged -__-. 

I was sad. I met this sweet Handsome Stranger and of course he would be engaged. With that information I immediately turned my “friend zone” cap on and asked him to watch my stuff while I got my new boarding pass information. I stood in line and made calls to my boss to let him know I would be late to work in the morning. I stood in line and casually would glance over at the Handsome Stranger. He was on the phone and I just thought about how this would be so much better if he was single. This could have been our “meet cute”. Oh well. I stood in line for what seemed like forever but ended up getting a food voucher and boarding pass for the next mornings flight. I asked about hotel accommodations and they told me they were calling hotels and we needed to wait. I sat back down near the Handsome Stranger and gave him the update. We continued to make small talk. At this point I do not remember all of what we talked about but I do remember feeling like he was an old friend and not really a stranger. 

He took his turn to wait in line and I checked on social media. Around 10:30pm, while the Handsome Stranger was standing in line we were notified by Frontier that they were unable to book hotel rooms for everyone and therefore we were responsible for finding our own accommodations and Frontier would reimburse us. I immediately looked at the Handsome Stranger who was mouthing to me “What the fuck?”. I laughed and started looking online for hotels. He sat down next to me and asked if I had any luck with finding something. I told him that I found some rooms at the Clarion and he said “okay lets book there”. In my head I thought, this Handsome Stranger does not know me and yet is treating me like we are in this together. We are booking hotels together and its not even awkward. I couldn’t believe this. One thing for sure was that it was nice not being alone in this debacle. I had a companion. In order to keep my friend up to date I went to twitter. 

Pete was making me laugh at the situation, but part of it was true. If we were both single this could have been a very different story. However since he was engaged nothing could happen which was sad since everything seemed to be pointing to this wonderful story that could never happen. After booking the hotels we headed to baggage claim to collect our stuff. We each found our bags and went searching for the Clarion Hotel Shuttle. We found it outside and he helped put my luggage in the car. What a gentleman. He opened the door for me and a couple of people moved over so we could sit together. As we sat in the shuttle we realized we were with other people on our flight. We all complained about the situation. One guy asked everyone where they lived in San Diego. The Handsome Stranger said Bay Park and when I said Mission Beach another woman spoke over me saying she was visiting. That started another conversation about San Diego and me and the Handsome Stranger sat there. We made comments about Florida but mostly listened to the people in front of us. 

We made it to the hotel around 11:45pm. As we stood in line for check in, the Handsome Stranger made a joke about getting a drink. I said absolutely. Sadly there were no bars but only a McDonalds around. We waited for check in making jokes about getting a suite for the evening. I ended up upgrading to a suite but the Handsome Stranger was unable to because he was prepaid and couldn’t. While checking in we found out we needed to reserve spots on the morning shuttle to the airport. The Handsome Stranger told the guy we needed two spots. Unfortunately the shuttle for 5am was booked so he looked over to me and asked about taking a Lyft. I agreed with that and smiled to myself thinking wow this guy is treating me like we are traveling together. I got my room key and made my way to the hotel room. As I passed the Handsome Stranger. I told him I would see him in the morning. He said “See you at 5am”. 

I got to my hotel room and kept thinking how crazy this night was. I was stranded in Orlando with a Handsome Stranger who literally treated me as if we traveled together. The other people assumed we knew each other and I could see why. This entire night was us chatting and acting like we were old friends. Yet the sad fact was that he was engaged and there was nothing that could happen. I showered and sent messages to my family and Garrett. I went to bed and within what felt like minutes was waking up to my 4am alarm. 

I checked out and waited in the lobby. I was not sure if the Handsome Stranger had left given it was getting close to 5am and I had not seen him. I wondered if I should wait or if we just said our goodbyes the night prior. I told myself I would wait until about 5:05 before getting a Lyft. At around 5am when I was getting ready to get a Lyft I saw the Handsome Stranger walk from his room. I smiled as he walked towards the front desk. Still not knowing what we had decided I ordered a Lyft. While he was checking out I sat and waited for the Lyft. The hotel worker told him that the shuttle was here and there was space for him. He turned to me and said, “did you order a Lyft yet?” I told him yes and he said okay we are good. I smiled. He walked over to me about the time the Lyft driver was here. We said our good mornings and talked about how we didn’t get enough sleep. We chatted like old friends on the way to the airport and I couldn’t help but be happy about my new travel partner.  

I had to tweet about it. 

We made it to the airport and stood in the very long line at the front desk to drop off our bags. He snapchatted to his friends about the line and we continued to talk. He was such a great person and we just got along so well. The conversation flowed and there was never an awkward moment. We finally checked our bags and made our way to security. As we walked to security he had TSA pre-check but I didn’t. He left me at security and told me he would see me in a bit. I stood alone in line and just thought about how crazy this entire experience had been. 

I made it through security and found the Handsome Stranger sitting in an chair in the middle of the gates. I sat down and told him about security and the annoying people in front of me. We laughed and he asked me if I wanted breakfast. I said yes and we made our way to a bagel place. While in line we joked about making sure to use the entire $15 voucher. He ended up spending $14.80 and I spent $8. During this time I kept thinking how no matter what happened I was so glad to not be in this alone. He was a great guy and we could talk about anything. I hate traveling alone and it was so nice that I didn’t feel stuck in Orlando alone. I had a friend in this. 

We sat and ate our breakfast and we met up with another guy from our flight. We talked about DisneyWorld and our jobs. Both were shocked to find out I was an attorney and I was shocked to find out that the Handsome Stranger was in the military. Our conversations continued until it was time to board our flight. We said our goodbyes and I sat next to the AA guy on the plane. 

The flight was long but I finally made it home to San Diego in 5 hours. I got off the plane and headed to baggage claim where I waited for my bag. While standing there the Handsome Stranger came up to me talking about the flight. I found out he had the row to himself and all I could do was wish that I was next to him. Oh well. The bags finally came and he got his bag first. He again said goodbye and it was nice to meet me. He told me he hopes to see me around mission beach and I couldn’t help but smile. He had heard me say that I lived there. I said bye and see you around. Then that was that. 

I was bummed. For over 12 hours I was stuck in Orlando and ended up meeting an amazing person. He was sweet, cute, and funny. I couldn’t help but wonder what would have happened if he was not engaged. Would this have been the beginning of our story? How unfair was it that the one time I meet someone he is unavailable and I had no chance. Yet the entire time we were together you would have thought we were traveling as a pair. I was sad and yet happy about this entire experience. Although he was taken I felt glad in the fact that even through the cancelled flight and the extra night in Orlando I had a positive experience. I was not alone. Even though we could not or would not date I felt a connection with the Handsome Stranger. I do not know if it was mutual but I can hope that he felt something too.

I do not know this Handsome Stranger’s name and I do not know where he works. When explaining this to my friends they could not comprehend the fact that we spent so much time together and yet we never exchanged names. Its weird looking back thinking that it never came up but it didn’t. After telling the story to Britney she referred to it as “tragic” and I would agree. I had a genuine connection with someone and it was doomed from the beginning. There was nothing I could do and even now I can do nothing about it. We were unfortunately meant to go about our separate lives. I will likely never see him again but I am glad I met the Handsome Stranger. He was the positive light to the horrible end of my trip. You may consider this tragic and a part of me does, but I will leave you with this...

It is said that people enter our lives for a reason. The Handsome Stranger entered my life during a crappy flight cancellation and unplanned delay in returning home. However I look back at my night and think about how happy I was being with him. I may not know his name but for a brief moment I shared something special with someone. Nothing will ever come of it but at least when I would have normally been alone, I wasn’t. He was my companion and partner throughout that entire ordeal. I will always be thankful I met him. 

[samanthasroberts]

Getting Sober: Redefining My Longest Relationship

Id call it time traveling. Most of the time I didnt know I was doing it until I was already in too deep. It didnt matter the day of the week or the time, or who I was with. I was just as capable of bending time alone, as I was with a handful of friends.

There was no such thing as one or two or three drinks. Just like a two headed giraffe didnt exist, neither did grabbing a couple of drinks. Its that simple. I really cant explain it any other way. My average was a drink every fifteen minutes. I never thought about that. I didnt brag about it or work towards it or talk about it, my rhythm just happened. The drink was in my hand and I drank it. I didnt think of slowing down or having an empty hand.

Id start somewhere- at an apartment or at dinner or a happy hour or on a date and Id arm myself with whatever I was in the mood for. There were the regular players: Jack Daniels and diet coke, chardonnay, Redbull and vodka, Blue Moon and those few years in my early 20s where I thought the only two drinks on the planet was a Sex On The Beach and Cosmo. Drink menus were for amateurs.

Never red wine though. It stained my teeth and lips, Id explain when asked, and respond with my quirky I only drink it alone and in the dark answer. Theyd always laugh.

For a long time the only shot I tossed back was Patron XO. Lemon drops and Kamikazes were too collegiate for me. I was smart enough to know that I always got sick after Whiskey. That was my kryptonite. It didnt stop me from drinking it again (and again), just in case getting sick was a one time thing. Spoiler alert: it wasnt.

So that was me, always, from the first time I got drunk during a party at 16 years old to my four day New Years Eve bender at age 30. But lets not call it a bender, or else my parents will worry. It was celebrating a new year with friends. It was a vacation and a belated birthday. It was me letting present, in the moment Diana take the wheel for a few days.

By the time YOLO was on T-shirts I had carpe diem booze down to a science.

It was all so normal and always OK: competing with friends how many guys we can make out with in one night (one of my favorite games), bouncing around speakeasys in the East Village, sneaking into the high end member only clubs in the Meatpacking District, 4am pancakes at a diner then going home with the cutest guy there, leaving without paying your tab, putting your drinks on a strangers tab, hooking up with your friends crush, sleeping with a guy who has a girlfriend (what, he had an accent, ok?), telling work you have a doctors appointment when you need an extra hour of sleep, telling work youre sick when youre too hungover to get out of bed, napping in the bathroom stall at work when you realize you went to work still drunk.

Theres wasnt a problem with any of this. I could go to six bars in a night and only remember two of them (seetime traveling). Others had different, less poetic names for it- like graying out or even more ominous, going black out. But lets not talk about that. Those words are scary.

It all just made so much sense to me. I had a desperate thirst for life, for new experiences and stories that were only mine and drinking was my very own special key to open that door. I dont remember being trained but I knew this truth: that I needed to drink- to have fun, to meet a guy, to de-stress, to celebrate, after a bad day, after a good day, when its more than 50 degrees out, when its under 15 degrees, because its Monday.

Its dramatic sounding, I know, but when I was drinking, like really in the middle of a good run, I was untouchable. My thoughts evened out and worries were left at the coat check. I was charming and funny. I was weightless and sexy. Nothing could ground me.

I wasnt stupid. I knew what was happening. There wasnt a river in Egypt. The biggest part was the after, when Morning Diana gradually and reluctantly pixelated back into place ready to droop down into the exorcist-like hangover.

When I was in college my hangover cure was strawberries and chocolate milk. After I received my diploma I graduated to well-done bacon, coffee, Mimosas. Water never entered the equation.

Sometime in my mid-twenties while I was gripping on to my spinning couch, I googled hangover and depression and was so relieved when I read the phrase emotional hangover. I immediately felt better seeing the feeling I felt printed on my screen. It was a relief: I wasnt alone in this feeling and it had a name. Urban Dictionary knows about it so it must be OK. Ill finish my bacon and chocolate milkshake and be just ducky.

The recovery time was always different- sometimes I could slide out of bed and be partially human the next day and other times I needed a day alone to stew in a mental playback of the night before. During those days the biggest challenge was the trek from my bedroom to couch. No matter how I recouped I never thought it was bad. I thought my friends were doing it too.

Country songs and Van Wilder confirmed for me that getting drunk and hangovers were a part of life. I never raised my hand to question it. So, about the men. I bet you thought it was hard to find a man with all this time zig zagging and space jumping but it wasnt. Lets go back ten years again and Ill tell you about all the threesomes I had. It was me, the guy, and alcohol.

It was how I flirted, played, connected, and bonded with men, always. If the boyfriend had a bad day wed start downing drinks in the hopes that hed open up and talk to me. To flirt with the new cute coworker Id suggest we play beer after work. Hed find it charming and cute and wed drunkenly made out in the corner of the bar after swapping 1st pet names and office gossip. I had a fling with a British banker off and on for 3 years and when wed meet late night hed pour us shots of tequila first. It was our thing. Our inside joke with Don Julio.We didnt know each others last names but we shared an appreciation for top shelf tequila at 3am before having sex. Im a romantic, I know.

My favorite three words when I was with a guy were Want another round?

During each encounter, each date, I wouldnt feel satisfied until I heard those words. He could shout it or whisper it in my ear, either way I wanted those words. It meant: he liked me, hes having a good time, and he wanted to keep spending time with me. He didnt want the night to end. It meant intimacy, it meant hand holding and flirty eyes and of course, sex.

I could count the number of times I had sober sex on one hand. I didnt enjoy it. To avoid it, Id explain that I simply didnt like morning sex. Most of the time Id be too hungover to move from a fetal position so it wasnt pursued for long on his end anyway. Hooking up drunk was sexy and fun. We could let our inhibitions go and really connect. Fun was had by all. I wasnt worried about any of it.

Theres unfortunately worse parts. Im not going to tell them to you though. Mostly because my mother may read this. But also because I was once told that you dont need to go all the way to the bottom floor in order to get off the elevator. So lets baby step off the lift, shall we?

I was in one of my first sessions with my new therapist when she told me I repeated the word untouchable a lot and made me explain why I thought that was a good word. (See all of the above for my response). Valentines Day was two weeks away and I was mentally preparing to be single again during my least favorite holiday of the year.

I wasnt too worried though because Id participate in my friends annual BOVD- Black Out Valentines Day. The year before included colorful fish bowls and sushi till 2am. Problem solved. I was talking but realizing more and more how much she looked like Lily Tomlin when she put a piece paper down in front of me. It was a wordy contract with bullet points in the middle and a blank line next to my name at the bottom.

I was supposed to go a week without drinking. Thats a lie. I could drink. But only three glasses of beer or wine, two different nights. If I broke the contract I had to give $100 to her. Lily was crazy. How was this legal? I couldnt do this. Fact. I shouldnt have even been there. I wanted to deal with this but apparently not by actually dealing with it. I argued with her and left the session with the unsigned document squished to the bottom of my purse. That night I didnt sleep and express ordered Alan Carrs Easy Way to Control Alcohol. Problem solved. I went out drinking all week. And I drank like no one was watching.

Then I signed the contract. And then when week one ended, I signed the next contract. Was it easy? Fuck no. Did I have to write some checks to my therapist? Yes. Did I cry? Did I rant? Did my hands and mind twitch and turn during dinners with friends as I stared at my 1 drink for the night? Hell to the yes. Most nights all I could think about was my hand stammering under the table and how much I wanted and needed another drink.

I thought of the contract and Lilys annoying face staring down at me. I thought of how I felt when I was hungover. I thought of the fuzzy nights. I thought of the fuzzy years. I cried a lot. I stayed in and watched Netflix even more. I watched Vampire Diaries starting at season 1, many times. In therapy I compared my drunk self to being a vampire with no soul. There are many different points of view on vampire rule and regulations but most of them agree that the creatures of the night have no soul. Stick with me here. In Vampire Diaries the rule of thumb is that vampires can turn this soul switch off and on. When its on they feel everything, when its off they feel nothing and become untouchable. Follow me now? The easy way to live is to keep the switch off. I did that, over and over again. I was tired of it and wanted to be in the world of the living again. I didnt decide this overnight. It took months, a lot more episodes of Vampire Diaries and most of 2015. Something weird happened around the same time I switched to watching new episodes of Arrow that wouldve really pissed off my 23 year old Cosmo drinking self- I stopped enjoying drinking.

By November I was completely sober and joined a boxing ring. I could get up in the morning and exercise. I didnt need to sign a contract anymore. I sober dated. I sober celebrated friends birthdays. I sober had a fun Thursday night. I went to AA meetings sometimes and spent most of the meeting listening and nodding my head. I was funny and smart and friendly during the day and I was funny and smart and friendly at night. I added to my own life and stopped letting drinking take away from it. I started a social group. I started a book club. I started.

Sometime between the last crippling snow storm of last year and planning my 31st birthday, I stopped wanting to go to Edit Undo. I re-entered my own life. I went through those years and theyre a part of me for worse or worser. I went through it before knowing there was another side. I hit my rock bottoms (yes, there was more than one). Im still learning how to talk about it- what I want to say about it and to who. But the further I get from the person I was then, the more I like who Im turning into now. But letting go of her seemed like an impossible ask that the tiny tired voice deep inside me was begging for.

If I stopped drinking Id lose all of me, not just a part. I was terrified as if I was going to lose a limb or my hearing. My life would be filled withwhat? Id have no buoy or security blanket or man behind the curtain. Id be dry, unfilled, just curved edges and rims. The thought paralyzed me.

Now, Im at this other side. Im still learning what this other side is like and who I am in it. But I do know this- Im more now than I was before. Im more me and more strong and more present. I feel more and I listen to me more.

Days are now broken up between feeling this raw, strength of life and connection to people and namastes and really fantastic Im part of the universe and not from vibes to a total, giant uncertainty and instability, and anger and exhaustion. I never knew I could get tired of feelings. Weve moved in together, you see. We wake up together and go to bed together and they insist on forming an invisible fanny pack around my waist during the day. Hello intimacy, party of two. Theyre normally the big spoon. My thoughts continue from one moment to the next and connect without taking breaks. I had years and years of turning myself on and off and more off and now I just want to be on.

I wish I could say that when I wake up sober now, Im not depressed anymore or lonely, my friends became better friends, I became the perfect best friend, sister and daughter, and my love life came together Prince Charming Cinderella style. But becoming more sober didnt mean everything clicked into place, it just means I see the pieces more clearly and I dont hide from the messy parts.

So now whatdo I become resentful and guilty and depressed thinking about the years I spent avoiding intimacy and feelings and honesty and fuck, concrete memories? Do I think those years dont count? Do I blame my bad habits on the constant excess of New York City? Do I blame the alcoholic-like attributes that run in my blood line? Do I blame my friends? Or the work hard play hard Don Draper industry I work in? Do I blame shitty men boys?

Yes, to all of the above. I point the finger at all of them and then back at me, and then at them and back at me. Lily says hi.

Ive had men yell at me, not being able to grasp the idea of my moderated drinking habits, insisting that Im just pretending I dont drink because I wanted them to buy me drinks. I dont get it either. No means no guys. My friendships have changed, my god have my friendships changed. One friend who pre-games with a bottle of wine (a standard respectable approach I once followed), on multiple occasions, dumped her wine into my water when she realized I wasnt drunk like she was. Yeah, I dont spend time with her anymore.

I went sixty days without drinking before I decided to drink again. For me it was like breaking up with a boyfriend and then meeting up again two months later. Never a good idea. Youll never want to be just friends who catch every up every now and then. I drank Vueve Clicquot and it didnt make the night better but it didnt make it worse. I didnt gray out. I didnt break down. That night isnt fuzzy. I could wake up in the morning.

Theres been other times when I drank recently and couldnt move far from the couch. Those times are a quick, slap in the face of what not to do. But old feelings and doubts still come flooding back in. Will I always want another drink? Why cant I just stay sober? Why does everyone make it look so easy? Is my therapist actually Lily Tomlin?

Deep down I know the majority of my problems start and stop with alcohol. Drinking will always be a part of my life whether Im drinking or not. Itd be easier to figure out if I wasnt both the variable and constant in this little conundrum of mine.

Today, I stare all the feels in the face, and make sure they know the last sixteen years matter but the last thirteen months matter even more. Im not her anymore, Im a different, more me now.

Im not 100% sober and I dont know if I ever will be. One day, maybe sooner rather than later, I could decide to sign up for a sober lifestyle again. But right now, I cant imagine midnight on New Years Eve without a champagne toast. I can do without five toasts but one still feels OK to me. So yeahmy relationship with drinking? We file it under Its complicated.

The good news is, Ive learned how to unwind on a Friday night without the trifecta of a bottle of wine, pizza and Netflix. My secret is just pizza and Netflix.

Source: http://allofbeer.com/2017/11/13/getting-sober-redefining-my-longest-relationship/

from All of Beer https://allofbeer.wordpress.com/2017/11/13/getting-sober-redefining-my-longest-relationship/

[adambstingus]

Getting Sober: Redefining My Longest Relationship

Id call it time traveling. Most of the time I didnt know I was doing it until I was already in too deep. It didnt matter the day of the week or the time, or who I was with. I was just as capable of bending time alone, as I was with a handful of friends.

There was no such thing as one or two or three drinks. Just like a two headed giraffe didnt exist, neither did grabbing a couple of drinks. Its that simple. I really cant explain it any other way. My average was a drink every fifteen minutes. I never thought about that. I didnt brag about it or work towards it or talk about it, my rhythm just happened. The drink was in my hand and I drank it. I didnt think of slowing down or having an empty hand.

Id start somewhere- at an apartment or at dinner or a happy hour or on a date and Id arm myself with whatever I was in the mood for. There were the regular players: Jack Daniels and diet coke, chardonnay, Redbull and vodka, Blue Moon and those few years in my early 20s where I thought the only two drinks on the planet was a Sex On The Beach and Cosmo. Drink menus were for amateurs.

Never red wine though. It stained my teeth and lips, Id explain when asked, and respond with my quirky I only drink it alone and in the dark answer. Theyd always laugh.

For a long time the only shot I tossed back was Patron XO. Lemon drops and Kamikazes were too collegiate for me. I was smart enough to know that I always got sick after Whiskey. That was my kryptonite. It didnt stop me from drinking it again (and again), just in case getting sick was a one time thing. Spoiler alert: it wasnt.

So that was me, always, from the first time I got drunk during a party at 16 years old to my four day New Years Eve bender at age 30. But lets not call it a bender, or else my parents will worry. It was celebrating a new year with friends. It was a vacation and a belated birthday. It was me letting present, in the moment Diana take the wheel for a few days.

By the time YOLO was on T-shirts I had carpe diem booze down to a science.

It was all so normal and always OK: competing with friends how many guys we can make out with in one night (one of my favorite games), bouncing around speakeasys in the East Village, sneaking into the high end member only clubs in the Meatpacking District, 4am pancakes at a diner then going home with the cutest guy there, leaving without paying your tab, putting your drinks on a strangers tab, hooking up with your friends crush, sleeping with a guy who has a girlfriend (what, he had an accent, ok?), telling work you have a doctors appointment when you need an extra hour of sleep, telling work youre sick when youre too hungover to get out of bed, napping in the bathroom stall at work when you realize you went to work still drunk.

Theres wasnt a problem with any of this. I could go to six bars in a night and only remember two of them (seetime traveling). Others had different, less poetic names for it- like graying out or even more ominous, going black out. But lets not talk about that. Those words are scary.

It all just made so much sense to me. I had a desperate thirst for life, for new experiences and stories that were only mine and drinking was my very own special key to open that door. I dont remember being trained but I knew this truth: that I needed to drink- to have fun, to meet a guy, to de-stress, to celebrate, after a bad day, after a good day, when its more than 50 degrees out, when its under 15 degrees, because its Monday.

Its dramatic sounding, I know, but when I was drinking, like really in the middle of a good run, I was untouchable. My thoughts evened out and worries were left at the coat check. I was charming and funny. I was weightless and sexy. Nothing could ground me.

I wasnt stupid. I knew what was happening. There wasnt a river in Egypt. The biggest part was the after, when Morning Diana gradually and reluctantly pixelated back into place ready to droop down into the exorcist-like hangover.

When I was in college my hangover cure was strawberries and chocolate milk. After I received my diploma I graduated to well-done bacon, coffee, Mimosas. Water never entered the equation.

Sometime in my mid-twenties while I was gripping on to my spinning couch, I googled hangover and depression and was so relieved when I read the phrase emotional hangover. I immediately felt better seeing the feeling I felt printed on my screen. It was a relief: I wasnt alone in this feeling and it had a name. Urban Dictionary knows about it so it must be OK. Ill finish my bacon and chocolate milkshake and be just ducky.

The recovery time was always different- sometimes I could slide out of bed and be partially human the next day and other times I needed a day alone to stew in a mental playback of the night before. During those days the biggest challenge was the trek from my bedroom to couch. No matter how I recouped I never thought it was bad. I thought my friends were doing it too.

Country songs and Van Wilder confirmed for me that getting drunk and hangovers were a part of life. I never raised my hand to question it. So, about the men. I bet you thought it was hard to find a man with all this time zig zagging and space jumping but it wasnt. Lets go back ten years again and Ill tell you about all the threesomes I had. It was me, the guy, and alcohol.

It was how I flirted, played, connected, and bonded with men, always. If the boyfriend had a bad day wed start downing drinks in the hopes that hed open up and talk to me. To flirt with the new cute coworker Id suggest we play beer after work. Hed find it charming and cute and wed drunkenly made out in the corner of the bar after swapping 1st pet names and office gossip. I had a fling with a British banker off and on for 3 years and when wed meet late night hed pour us shots of tequila first. It was our thing. Our inside joke with Don Julio.We didnt know each others last names but we shared an appreciation for top shelf tequila at 3am before having sex. Im a romantic, I know.

My favorite three words when I was with a guy were Want another round?

During each encounter, each date, I wouldnt feel satisfied until I heard those words. He could shout it or whisper it in my ear, either way I wanted those words. It meant: he liked me, hes having a good time, and he wanted to keep spending time with me. He didnt want the night to end. It meant intimacy, it meant hand holding and flirty eyes and of course, sex.

I could count the number of times I had sober sex on one hand. I didnt enjoy it. To avoid it, Id explain that I simply didnt like morning sex. Most of the time Id be too hungover to move from a fetal position so it wasnt pursued for long on his end anyway. Hooking up drunk was sexy and fun. We could let our inhibitions go and really connect. Fun was had by all. I wasnt worried about any of it.

Theres unfortunately worse parts. Im not going to tell them to you though. Mostly because my mother may read this. But also because I was once told that you dont need to go all the way to the bottom floor in order to get off the elevator. So lets baby step off the lift, shall we?

I was in one of my first sessions with my new therapist when she told me I repeated the word untouchable a lot and made me explain why I thought that was a good word. (See all of the above for my response). Valentines Day was two weeks away and I was mentally preparing to be single again during my least favorite holiday of the year.

I wasnt too worried though because Id participate in my friends annual BOVD- Black Out Valentines Day. The year before included colorful fish bowls and sushi till 2am. Problem solved. I was talking but realizing more and more how much she looked like Lily Tomlin when she put a piece paper down in front of me. It was a wordy contract with bullet points in the middle and a blank line next to my name at the bottom.

I was supposed to go a week without drinking. Thats a lie. I could drink. But only three glasses of beer or wine, two different nights. If I broke the contract I had to give $100 to her. Lily was crazy. How was this legal? I couldnt do this. Fact. I shouldnt have even been there. I wanted to deal with this but apparently not by actually dealing with it. I argued with her and left the session with the unsigned document squished to the bottom of my purse. That night I didnt sleep and express ordered Alan Carrs Easy Way to Control Alcohol. Problem solved. I went out drinking all week. And I drank like no one was watching.

Then I signed the contract. And then when week one ended, I signed the next contract. Was it easy? Fuck no. Did I have to write some checks to my therapist? Yes. Did I cry? Did I rant? Did my hands and mind twitch and turn during dinners with friends as I stared at my 1 drink for the night? Hell to the yes. Most nights all I could think about was my hand stammering under the table and how much I wanted and needed another drink.

I thought of the contract and Lilys annoying face staring down at me. I thought of how I felt when I was hungover. I thought of the fuzzy nights. I thought of the fuzzy years. I cried a lot. I stayed in and watched Netflix even more. I watched Vampire Diaries starting at season 1, many times. In therapy I compared my drunk self to being a vampire with no soul. There are many different points of view on vampire rule and regulations but most of them agree that the creatures of the night have no soul. Stick with me here. In Vampire Diaries the rule of thumb is that vampires can turn this soul switch off and on. When its on they feel everything, when its off they feel nothing and become untouchable. Follow me now? The easy way to live is to keep the switch off. I did that, over and over again. I was tired of it and wanted to be in the world of the living again. I didnt decide this overnight. It took months, a lot more episodes of Vampire Diaries and most of 2015. Something weird happened around the same time I switched to watching new episodes of Arrow that wouldve really pissed off my 23 year old Cosmo drinking self- I stopped enjoying drinking.

By November I was completely sober and joined a boxing ring. I could get up in the morning and exercise. I didnt need to sign a contract anymore. I sober dated. I sober celebrated friends birthdays. I sober had a fun Thursday night. I went to AA meetings sometimes and spent most of the meeting listening and nodding my head. I was funny and smart and friendly during the day and I was funny and smart and friendly at night. I added to my own life and stopped letting drinking take away from it. I started a social group. I started a book club. I started.

Sometime between the last crippling snow storm of last year and planning my 31st birthday, I stopped wanting to go to Edit Undo. I re-entered my own life. I went through those years and theyre a part of me for worse or worser. I went through it before knowing there was another side. I hit my rock bottoms (yes, there was more than one). Im still learning how to talk about it- what I want to say about it and to who. But the further I get from the person I was then, the more I like who Im turning into now. But letting go of her seemed like an impossible ask that the tiny tired voice deep inside me was begging for.

If I stopped drinking Id lose all of me, not just a part. I was terrified as if I was going to lose a limb or my hearing. My life would be filled withwhat? Id have no buoy or security blanket or man behind the curtain. Id be dry, unfilled, just curved edges and rims. The thought paralyzed me.

Now, Im at this other side. Im still learning what this other side is like and who I am in it. But I do know this- Im more now than I was before. Im more me and more strong and more present. I feel more and I listen to me more.

Days are now broken up between feeling this raw, strength of life and connection to people and namastes and really fantastic Im part of the universe and not from vibes to a total, giant uncertainty and instability, and anger and exhaustion. I never knew I could get tired of feelings. Weve moved in together, you see. We wake up together and go to bed together and they insist on forming an invisible fanny pack around my waist during the day. Hello intimacy, party of two. Theyre normally the big spoon. My thoughts continue from one moment to the next and connect without taking breaks. I had years and years of turning myself on and off and more off and now I just want to be on.

I wish I could say that when I wake up sober now, Im not depressed anymore or lonely, my friends became better friends, I became the perfect best friend, sister and daughter, and my love life came together Prince Charming Cinderella style. But becoming more sober didnt mean everything clicked into place, it just means I see the pieces more clearly and I dont hide from the messy parts.

So now whatdo I become resentful and guilty and depressed thinking about the years I spent avoiding intimacy and feelings and honesty and fuck, concrete memories? Do I think those years dont count? Do I blame my bad habits on the constant excess of New York City? Do I blame the alcoholic-like attributes that run in my blood line? Do I blame my friends? Or the work hard play hard Don Draper industry I work in? Do I blame shitty men boys?

Yes, to all of the above. I point the finger at all of them and then back at me, and then at them and back at me. Lily says hi.

Ive had men yell at me, not being able to grasp the idea of my moderated drinking habits, insisting that Im just pretending I dont drink because I wanted them to buy me drinks. I dont get it either. No means no guys. My friendships have changed, my god have my friendships changed. One friend who pre-games with a bottle of wine (a standard respectable approach I once followed), on multiple occasions, dumped her wine into my water when she realized I wasnt drunk like she was. Yeah, I dont spend time with her anymore.

I went sixty days without drinking before I decided to drink again. For me it was like breaking up with a boyfriend and then meeting up again two months later. Never a good idea. Youll never want to be just friends who catch every up every now and then. I drank Vueve Clicquot and it didnt make the night better but it didnt make it worse. I didnt gray out. I didnt break down. That night isnt fuzzy. I could wake up in the morning.

Theres been other times when I drank recently and couldnt move far from the couch. Those times are a quick, slap in the face of what not to do. But old feelings and doubts still come flooding back in. Will I always want another drink? Why cant I just stay sober? Why does everyone make it look so easy? Is my therapist actually Lily Tomlin?

Deep down I know the majority of my problems start and stop with alcohol. Drinking will always be a part of my life whether Im drinking or not. Itd be easier to figure out if I wasnt both the variable and constant in this little conundrum of mine.

Today, I stare all the feels in the face, and make sure they know the last sixteen years matter but the last thirteen months matter even more. Im not her anymore, Im a different, more me now.

Im not 100% sober and I dont know if I ever will be. One day, maybe sooner rather than later, I could decide to sign up for a sober lifestyle again. But right now, I cant imagine midnight on New Years Eve without a champagne toast. I can do without five toasts but one still feels OK to me. So yeahmy relationship with drinking? We file it under Its complicated.

The good news is, Ive learned how to unwind on a Friday night without the trifecta of a bottle of wine, pizza and Netflix. My secret is just pizza and Netflix.

from All Of Beer http://allofbeer.com/2017/11/13/getting-sober-redefining-my-longest-relationship/ from All of Beer https://allofbeercom.tumblr.com/post/167431371812

[allofbeercom]

Getting Sober: Redefining My Longest Relationship

Id call it time traveling. Most of the time I didnt know I was doing it until I was already in too deep. It didnt matter the day of the week or the time, or who I was with. I was just as capable of bending time alone, as I was with a handful of friends.

There was no such thing as one or two or three drinks. Just like a two headed giraffe didnt exist, neither did grabbing a couple of drinks. Its that simple. I really cant explain it any other way. My average was a drink every fifteen minutes. I never thought about that. I didnt brag about it or work towards it or talk about it, my rhythm just happened. The drink was in my hand and I drank it. I didnt think of slowing down or having an empty hand.

Id start somewhere- at an apartment or at dinner or a happy hour or on a date and Id arm myself with whatever I was in the mood for. There were the regular players: Jack Daniels and diet coke, chardonnay, Redbull and vodka, Blue Moon and those few years in my early 20s where I thought the only two drinks on the planet was a Sex On The Beach and Cosmo. Drink menus were for amateurs.

Never red wine though. It stained my teeth and lips, Id explain when asked, and respond with my quirky I only drink it alone and in the dark answer. Theyd always laugh.

For a long time the only shot I tossed back was Patron XO. Lemon drops and Kamikazes were too collegiate for me. I was smart enough to know that I always got sick after Whiskey. That was my kryptonite. It didnt stop me from drinking it again (and again), just in case getting sick was a one time thing. Spoiler alert: it wasnt.

So that was me, always, from the first time I got drunk during a party at 16 years old to my four day New Years Eve bender at age 30. But lets not call it a bender, or else my parents will worry. It was celebrating a new year with friends. It was a vacation and a belated birthday. It was me letting present, in the moment Diana take the wheel for a few days.

By the time YOLO was on T-shirts I had carpe diem booze down to a science.

It was all so normal and always OK: competing with friends how many guys we can make out with in one night (one of my favorite games), bouncing around speakeasys in the East Village, sneaking into the high end member only clubs in the Meatpacking District, 4am pancakes at a diner then going home with the cutest guy there, leaving without paying your tab, putting your drinks on a strangers tab, hooking up with your friends crush, sleeping with a guy who has a girlfriend (what, he had an accent, ok?), telling work you have a doctors appointment when you need an extra hour of sleep, telling work youre sick when youre too hungover to get out of bed, napping in the bathroom stall at work when you realize you went to work still drunk.

Theres wasnt a problem with any of this. I could go to six bars in a night and only remember two of them (seetime traveling). Others had different, less poetic names for it- like graying out or even more ominous, going black out. But lets not talk about that. Those words are scary.

It all just made so much sense to me. I had a desperate thirst for life, for new experiences and stories that were only mine and drinking was my very own special key to open that door. I dont remember being trained but I knew this truth: that I needed to drink- to have fun, to meet a guy, to de-stress, to celebrate, after a bad day, after a good day, when its more than 50 degrees out, when its under 15 degrees, because its Monday.

Its dramatic sounding, I know, but when I was drinking, like really in the middle of a good run, I was untouchable. My thoughts evened out and worries were left at the coat check. I was charming and funny. I was weightless and sexy. Nothing could ground me.

I wasnt stupid. I knew what was happening. There wasnt a river in Egypt. The biggest part was the after, when Morning Diana gradually and reluctantly pixelated back into place ready to droop down into the exorcist-like hangover.

When I was in college my hangover cure was strawberries and chocolate milk. After I received my diploma I graduated to well-done bacon, coffee, Mimosas. Water never entered the equation.

Sometime in my mid-twenties while I was gripping on to my spinning couch, I googled hangover and depression and was so relieved when I read the phrase emotional hangover. I immediately felt better seeing the feeling I felt printed on my screen. It was a relief: I wasnt alone in this feeling and it had a name. Urban Dictionary knows about it so it must be OK. Ill finish my bacon and chocolate milkshake and be just ducky.

The recovery time was always different- sometimes I could slide out of bed and be partially human the next day and other times I needed a day alone to stew in a mental playback of the night before. During those days the biggest challenge was the trek from my bedroom to couch. No matter how I recouped I never thought it was bad. I thought my friends were doing it too.

Country songs and Van Wilder confirmed for me that getting drunk and hangovers were a part of life. I never raised my hand to question it. So, about the men. I bet you thought it was hard to find a man with all this time zig zagging and space jumping but it wasnt. Lets go back ten years again and Ill tell you about all the threesomes I had. It was me, the guy, and alcohol.

It was how I flirted, played, connected, and bonded with men, always. If the boyfriend had a bad day wed start downing drinks in the hopes that hed open up and talk to me. To flirt with the new cute coworker Id suggest we play beer after work. Hed find it charming and cute and wed drunkenly made out in the corner of the bar after swapping 1st pet names and office gossip. I had a fling with a British banker off and on for 3 years and when wed meet late night hed pour us shots of tequila first. It was our thing. Our inside joke with Don Julio.We didnt know each others last names but we shared an appreciation for top shelf tequila at 3am before having sex. Im a romantic, I know.

My favorite three words when I was with a guy were Want another round?

During each encounter, each date, I wouldnt feel satisfied until I heard those words. He could shout it or whisper it in my ear, either way I wanted those words. It meant: he liked me, hes having a good time, and he wanted to keep spending time with me. He didnt want the night to end. It meant intimacy, it meant hand holding and flirty eyes and of course, sex.

I could count the number of times I had sober sex on one hand. I didnt enjoy it. To avoid it, Id explain that I simply didnt like morning sex. Most of the time Id be too hungover to move from a fetal position so it wasnt pursued for long on his end anyway. Hooking up drunk was sexy and fun. We could let our inhibitions go and really connect. Fun was had by all. I wasnt worried about any of it.

Theres unfortunately worse parts. Im not going to tell them to you though. Mostly because my mother may read this. But also because I was once told that you dont need to go all the way to the bottom floor in order to get off the elevator. So lets baby step off the lift, shall we?

I was in one of my first sessions with my new therapist when she told me I repeated the word untouchable a lot and made me explain why I thought that was a good word. (See all of the above for my response). Valentines Day was two weeks away and I was mentally preparing to be single again during my least favorite holiday of the year.

I wasnt too worried though because Id participate in my friends annual BOVD- Black Out Valentines Day. The year before included colorful fish bowls and sushi till 2am. Problem solved. I was talking but realizing more and more how much she looked like Lily Tomlin when she put a piece paper down in front of me. It was a wordy contract with bullet points in the middle and a blank line next to my name at the bottom.

I was supposed to go a week without drinking. Thats a lie. I could drink. But only three glasses of beer or wine, two different nights. If I broke the contract I had to give $100 to her. Lily was crazy. How was this legal? I couldnt do this. Fact. I shouldnt have even been there. I wanted to deal with this but apparently not by actually dealing with it. I argued with her and left the session with the unsigned document squished to the bottom of my purse. That night I didnt sleep and express ordered Alan Carrs Easy Way to Control Alcohol. Problem solved. I went out drinking all week. And I drank like no one was watching.

Then I signed the contract. And then when week one ended, I signed the next contract. Was it easy? Fuck no. Did I have to write some checks to my therapist? Yes. Did I cry? Did I rant? Did my hands and mind twitch and turn during dinners with friends as I stared at my 1 drink for the night? Hell to the yes. Most nights all I could think about was my hand stammering under the table and how much I wanted and needed another drink.

I thought of the contract and Lilys annoying face staring down at me. I thought of how I felt when I was hungover. I thought of the fuzzy nights. I thought of the fuzzy years. I cried a lot. I stayed in and watched Netflix even more. I watched Vampire Diaries starting at season 1, many times. In therapy I compared my drunk self to being a vampire with no soul. There are many different points of view on vampire rule and regulations but most of them agree that the creatures of the night have no soul. Stick with me here. In Vampire Diaries the rule of thumb is that vampires can turn this soul switch off and on. When its on they feel everything, when its off they feel nothing and become untouchable. Follow me now? The easy way to live is to keep the switch off. I did that, over and over again. I was tired of it and wanted to be in the world of the living again. I didnt decide this overnight. It took months, a lot more episodes of Vampire Diaries and most of 2015. Something weird happened around the same time I switched to watching new episodes of Arrow that wouldve really pissed off my 23 year old Cosmo drinking self- I stopped enjoying drinking.

By November I was completely sober and joined a boxing ring. I could get up in the morning and exercise. I didnt need to sign a contract anymore. I sober dated. I sober celebrated friends birthdays. I sober had a fun Thursday night. I went to AA meetings sometimes and spent most of the meeting listening and nodding my head. I was funny and smart and friendly during the day and I was funny and smart and friendly at night. I added to my own life and stopped letting drinking take away from it. I started a social group. I started a book club. I started.

Sometime between the last crippling snow storm of last year and planning my 31st birthday, I stopped wanting to go to Edit Undo. I re-entered my own life. I went through those years and theyre a part of me for worse or worser. I went through it before knowing there was another side. I hit my rock bottoms (yes, there was more than one). Im still learning how to talk about it- what I want to say about it and to who. But the further I get from the person I was then, the more I like who Im turning into now. But letting go of her seemed like an impossible ask that the tiny tired voice deep inside me was begging for.

If I stopped drinking Id lose all of me, not just a part. I was terrified as if I was going to lose a limb or my hearing. My life would be filled withwhat? Id have no buoy or security blanket or man behind the curtain. Id be dry, unfilled, just curved edges and rims. The thought paralyzed me.

Now, Im at this other side. Im still learning what this other side is like and who I am in it. But I do know this- Im more now than I was before. Im more me and more strong and more present. I feel more and I listen to me more.

Days are now broken up between feeling this raw, strength of life and connection to people and namastes and really fantastic Im part of the universe and not from vibes to a total, giant uncertainty and instability, and anger and exhaustion. I never knew I could get tired of feelings. Weve moved in together, you see. We wake up together and go to bed together and they insist on forming an invisible fanny pack around my waist during the day. Hello intimacy, party of two. Theyre normally the big spoon. My thoughts continue from one moment to the next and connect without taking breaks. I had years and years of turning myself on and off and more off and now I just want to be on.

I wish I could say that when I wake up sober now, Im not depressed anymore or lonely, my friends became better friends, I became the perfect best friend, sister and daughter, and my love life came together Prince Charming Cinderella style. But becoming more sober didnt mean everything clicked into place, it just means I see the pieces more clearly and I dont hide from the messy parts.

So now whatdo I become resentful and guilty and depressed thinking about the years I spent avoiding intimacy and feelings and honesty and fuck, concrete memories? Do I think those years dont count? Do I blame my bad habits on the constant excess of New York City? Do I blame the alcoholic-like attributes that run in my blood line? Do I blame my friends? Or the work hard play hard Don Draper industry I work in? Do I blame shitty men boys?

Yes, to all of the above. I point the finger at all of them and then back at me, and then at them and back at me. Lily says hi.

Ive had men yell at me, not being able to grasp the idea of my moderated drinking habits, insisting that Im just pretending I dont drink because I wanted them to buy me drinks. I dont get it either. No means no guys. My friendships have changed, my god have my friendships changed. One friend who pre-games with a bottle of wine (a standard respectable approach I once followed), on multiple occasions, dumped her wine into my water when she realized I wasnt drunk like she was. Yeah, I dont spend time with her anymore.

I went sixty days without drinking before I decided to drink again. For me it was like breaking up with a boyfriend and then meeting up again two months later. Never a good idea. Youll never want to be just friends who catch every up every now and then. I drank Vueve Clicquot and it didnt make the night better but it didnt make it worse. I didnt gray out. I didnt break down. That night isnt fuzzy. I could wake up in the morning.

Theres been other times when I drank recently and couldnt move far from the couch. Those times are a quick, slap in the face of what not to do. But old feelings and doubts still come flooding back in. Will I always want another drink? Why cant I just stay sober? Why does everyone make it look so easy? Is my therapist actually Lily Tomlin?

Deep down I know the majority of my problems start and stop with alcohol. Drinking will always be a part of my life whether Im drinking or not. Itd be easier to figure out if I wasnt both the variable and constant in this little conundrum of mine.

Today, I stare all the feels in the face, and make sure they know the last sixteen years matter but the last thirteen months matter even more. Im not her anymore, Im a different, more me now.

Im not 100% sober and I dont know if I ever will be. One day, maybe sooner rather than later, I could decide to sign up for a sober lifestyle again. But right now, I cant imagine midnight on New Years Eve without a champagne toast. I can do without five toasts but one still feels OK to me. So yeahmy relationship with drinking? We file it under Its complicated.

The good news is, Ive learned how to unwind on a Friday night without the trifecta of a bottle of wine, pizza and Netflix. My secret is just pizza and Netflix.

from All Of Beer http://allofbeer.com/2017/11/13/getting-sober-redefining-my-longest-relationship/

[slothmd-blog]

Dear D

Dear D,

             It’s been over a year now since we met.  Since that time, I survived my third year of medical school (barely) and am now applying into emergency medicine.  A lot of this is thanks to you.  I’ve been meaning to write for a while now, but I never had the time to really think about what happened that night.  Now that I finally have some time for myself, I want to be able to finally talk to you and tell you about everything.

             I still remember that night vividly.  It was about 11pm and I was a little over 18 hours into my trauma call night in surgery. I was still new to the hospital and trying to figure out where to stand before someone yelled at me and what as the right way to get someone’s attention to ask a question (I later learned you don’t ask questions).  I was in one of the rooms of the trauma bay watching the primary survey of a trauma unfold when someone told me to go into the next room.  There, it was a flurry of action as people were running back and forth trying to get IV access and preparing medications.  A resident was on the phone with poison control while the nurse was handing out medications.  An intubation cart was ready at the head of the bed.  I looked up and saw a fourth year medical student who I recognized look over at me and pointed to the box of gloves and masks; I quickly realized he wanted me to gown up and get ready to help out.  

             In the middle of all of this was you.  You were laying on that stretcher, wires and IVs running to and from your body.  I had no idea what your name was or why you were in the hospital.  It was only later that I learned your name was D.  From what I could understand, you had overdosed on your medications earlier that day and were brought in when someone found you down.  I had no idea if it was by accident or if it was on purpose; I wanted to think it was accidental, but I knew deep down it wasn’t. I learned you were pretty young, in your fifties.  You had a host of medical problems that caused you a lot of pain.  I also found out that your home life wasn’t the greatest, with a son in jail and another one missing.  All this I found out from the medical records after we had stabilized you.

             Before I read through your records, I was gowned up and next to your bed.  My heart was pounding; this was the first time I would have to do chest compressions.  Would I be able to go deep enough?  What if I didn’t go fast enough?  All these questions raced through my mind.  Before I knew it, I was on the stool and pushing on your chest, two inches deep, at roughly one hundred compressions per minute.  We managed to resuscitate you, bringing your heart back to beating on its own.  As I stepped down someone said good job on those compressions and I took off my gown and mask.  My friend was on that night with me and was there for the whole thing as well.  As we walked into the hallway, I realized I was shaking and numb.  It was a surreal experience.  I had trained for this before on dummies but doing this for real was… different.  The dummies had a spring to them, where after a chest compression, the chest would bounce right back up; with a human body, there was no spring, just the slow rise of the chest after you let go of pressure.

             My friend and I got our cookies (half off after 11pm) and talked more about what just happened. I was still dazed.  As we walked back, I heard the call for a code blue again. Unfortunately, it was for your room. I was gowned up again and pushing on your chest, desperately trying to keep your blood flowing while trying to your heart pumping again.  We stabilized you again.  The doctors decided you would need surgery to help keep you alive by using a machine to oxygenate your blood for you.  I went up with you as the surgeons brought you to the operating room, hoping that it’d work.  I’d already overheard the conversations between the physicians, all of them saying that this was a last ditch effort that could possibly work.  I watched as the surgeons quickly found your arteries and veins and desperately tried to push in the tubes that would keep you alive. While on the table, you coded again. After several rounds of CPR, it didn’t seem like you were going to make it.  It was 3 or 4am at this point.  

             I headed back down the emergency department, numb.  You weren’t my patient, but I felt at that point I had taken care of you well enough that you were.  I realized that you were the first person I had seen, my first patient, to die in front of me.  I wasn’t sure how to feel honestly.  I knew this day would come eventually and I thought I would be ok, but I still can remember how I felt that night.  It was a wave of exhaustion and shock all at once.  I headed home later that morning and still felt a little numb.  When I went back to the hospital on Monday, I saw a note that I hadn’t seen before: Death note.  It was strange, seeing all these other notes leading up to it describing everything, and then all of a sudden, a death note.  There was a finality about it that I wasn’t expecting; knowing that there weren’t going to be a progress note or an H&P written about you anymore made me realize you were truly gone.

             I’m writing this letter now for two reasons: one is to say thank you.  In a way, you started my interest in emergency medicine and have helped me cement it as what I want to do.  I want to be able to help patients like you, when you’re at your weakest and most scared. I want to be able to do the life saving measures when called about and to be able to console families when they don’t work.

             Secondly, I’m writing this to say I’m sorry.  I don’t know what made you decide to take those pills that night, but I’m sorry it got to that point.  I wish our healthcare system would be better at preventing things like that from happening. I can’t imagine the pain or suffering that caused you do to take those pills.  I’m sorry we, as members of the healthcare profession and as people, can’t do more to help out people like you.  I’m sorry I didn’t get a chance to actually know you.  But I hope that one day in the future, I can help someone to make sure that they don’t feel the need to go as far as you did.  I hope you’re doing well.

 Sincerely,

Gary

[viralhottopics]

Getting Sober: Redefining My Longest Relationship

Id call it time traveling. Most of the time I didnt know I was doing it until I was already in too deep. It didnt matter the day of the week or the time, or who I was with. I was just as capable of bending time alone, as I was with a handful of friends.

There was no such thing as one or two or three drinks. Just like a two headed giraffe didnt exist, neither did grabbing a couple of drinks. Its that simple. I really cant explain it any other way. My average was a drink every fifteen minutes. I never thought about that. I didnt brag about it or work towards it or talk about it, my rhythm just happened. The drink was in my hand and I drank it. I didnt think of slowing down or having an empty hand.

Id start somewhere- at an apartment or at dinner or a happy hour or on a date and Id arm myself with whatever I was in the mood for. There were the regular players: Jack Daniels and diet coke, chardonnay, Redbull and vodka, Blue Moon and those few years in my early 20s where I thought the only two drinks on the planet was a Sex On The Beach and Cosmo. Drink menus were for amateurs.

Never red wine though. It stained my teeth and lips, Id explain when asked, and respond with my quirky I only drink it alone and in the dark answer. Theyd always laugh.

For a long time the only shot I tossed back was Patron XO. Lemon drops and Kamikazes were too collegiate for me. I was smart enough to know that I always got sick after Whiskey. That was my kryptonite. It didnt stop me from drinking it again (and again), just in case getting sick was a one time thing. Spoiler alert: it wasnt.

So that was me, always, from the first time I got drunk during a party at 16 years old to my four day New Years Eve bender at age 30. But lets not call it a bender, or else my parents will worry. It was celebrating a new year with friends. It was a vacation and a belated birthday. It was me letting present, in the moment Diana take the wheel for a few days.

By the time YOLO was on T-shirts I had carpe diem booze down to a science.

It was all so normal and always OK: competing with friends how many guys we can make out with in one night (one of my favorite games), bouncing around speakeasys in the East Village, sneaking into the high end member only clubs in the Meatpacking District, 4am pancakes at a diner then going home with the cutest guy there, leaving without paying your tab, putting your drinks on a strangers tab, hooking up with your friends crush, sleeping with a guy who has a girlfriend (what, he had an accent, ok?), telling work you have a doctors appointment when you need an extra hour of sleep, telling work youre sick when youre too hungover to get out of bed, napping in the bathroom stall at work when you realize you went to work still drunk.

Theres wasnt a problem with any of this. I could go to six bars in a night and only remember two of them (seetime traveling). Others had different, less poetic names for it- like graying out or even more ominous, going black out. But lets not talk about that. Those words are scary.

It all just made so much sense to me. I had a desperate thirst for life, for new experiences and stories that were only mine and drinking was my very own special key to open that door. I dont remember being trained but I knew this truth: that I needed to drink- to have fun, to meet a guy, to de-stress, to celebrate, after a bad day, after a good day, when its more than 50 degrees out, when its under 15 degrees, because its Monday.

Its dramatic sounding, I know, but when I was drinking, like really in the middle of a good run, I was untouchable. My thoughts evened out and worries were left at the coat check. I was charming and funny. I was weightless and sexy. Nothing could ground me.

I wasnt stupid. I knew what was happening. There wasnt a river in Egypt. The biggest part was the after, when Morning Diana gradually and reluctantly pixelated back into place ready to droop down into the exorcist-like hangover.

When I was in college my hangover cure was strawberries and chocolate milk. After I received my diploma I graduated to well-done bacon, coffee, Mimosas. Water never entered the equation.

Sometime in my mid-twenties while I was gripping on to my spinning couch, I googled hangover and depression and was so relieved when I read the phrase emotional hangover. I immediately felt better seeing the feeling I felt printed on my screen. It was a relief: I wasnt alone in this feeling and it had a name. Urban Dictionary knows about it so it must be OK. Ill finish my bacon and chocolate milkshake and be just ducky.

The recovery time was always different- sometimes I could slide out of bed and be partially human the next day and other times I needed a day alone to stew in a mental playback of the night before. During those days the biggest challenge was the trek from my bedroom to couch. No matter how I recouped I never thought it was bad. I thought my friends were doing it too.

Country songs and Van Wilder confirmed for me that getting drunk and hangovers were a part of life. I never raised my hand to question it. So, about the men. I bet you thought it was hard to find a man with all this time zig zagging and space jumping but it wasnt. Lets go back ten years again and Ill tell you about all the threesomes I had. It was me, the guy, and alcohol.

It was how I flirted, played, connected, and bonded with men, always. If the boyfriend had a bad day wed start downing drinks in the hopes that hed open up and talk to me. To flirt with the new cute coworker Id suggest we play beer after work. Hed find it charming and cute and wed drunkenly made out in the corner of the bar after swapping 1st pet names and office gossip. I had a fling with a British banker off and on for 3 years and when wed meet late night hed pour us shots of tequila first. It was our thing. Our inside joke with Don Julio.We didnt know each others last names but we shared an appreciation for top shelf tequila at 3am before having sex. Im a romantic, I know.

My favorite three words when I was with a guy were Want another round?

During each encounter, each date, I wouldnt feel satisfied until I heard those words. He could shout it or whisper it in my ear, either way I wanted those words. It meant: he liked me, hes having a good time, and he wanted to keep spending time with me. He didnt want the night to end. It meant intimacy, it meant hand holding and flirty eyes and of course, sex.

I could count the number of times I had sober sex on one hand. I didnt enjoy it. To avoid it, Id explain that I simply didnt like morning sex. Most of the time Id be too hungover to move from a fetal position so it wasnt pursued for long on his end anyway. Hooking up drunk was sexy and fun. We could let our inhibitions go and really connect. Fun was had by all. I wasnt worried about any of it.

Theres unfortunately worse parts. Im not going to tell them to you though. Mostly because my mother may read this. But also because I was once told that you dont need to go all the way to the bottom floor in order to get off the elevator. So lets baby step off the lift, shall we?

I was in one of my first sessions with my new therapist when she told me I repeated the word untouchable a lot and made me explain why I thought that was a good word. (See all of the above for my response). Valentines Day was two weeks away and I was mentally preparing to be single again during my least favorite holiday of the year.

I wasnt too worried though because Id participate in my friends annual BOVD- Black Out Valentines Day. The year before included colorful fish bowls and sushi till 2am. Problem solved. I was talking but realizing more and more how much she looked like Lily Tomlin when she put a piece paper down in front of me. It was a wordy contract with bullet points in the middle and a blank line next to my name at the bottom.

I was supposed to go a week without drinking. Thats a lie. I could drink. But only three glasses of beer or wine, two different nights. If I broke the contract I had to give $100 to her. Lily was crazy. How was this legal? I couldnt do this. Fact. I shouldnt have even been there. I wanted to deal with this but apparently not by actually dealing with it. I argued with her and left the session with the unsigned document squished to the bottom of my purse. That night I didnt sleep and express ordered Alan Carrs Easy Way to Control Alcohol. Problem solved. I went out drinking all week. And I drank like no one was watching.

Then I signed the contract. And then when week one ended, I signed the next contract. Was it easy? Fuck no. Did I have to write some checks to my therapist? Yes. Did I cry? Did I rant? Did my hands and mind twitch and turn during dinners with friends as I stared at my 1 drink for the night? Hell to the yes. Most nights all I could think about was my hand stammering under the table and how much I wanted and needed another drink.

I thought of the contract and Lilys annoying face staring down at me. I thought of how I felt when I was hungover. I thought of the fuzzy nights. I thought of the fuzzy years. I cried a lot. I stayed in and watched Netflix even more. I watched Vampire Diaries starting at season 1, many times. In therapy I compared my drunk self to being a vampire with no soul. There are many different points of view on vampire rule and regulations but most of them agree that the creatures of the night have no soul. Stick with me here. In Vampire Diaries the rule of thumb is that vampires can turn this soul switch off and on. When its on they feel everything, when its off they feel nothing and become untouchable. Follow me now? The easy way to live is to keep the switch off. I did that, over and over again. I was tired of it and wanted to be in the world of the living again. I didnt decide this overnight. It took months, a lot more episodes of Vampire Diaries and most of 2015. Something weird happened around the same time I switched to watching new episodes of Arrow that wouldve really pissed off my 23 year old Cosmo drinking self- I stopped enjoying drinking.

By November I was completely sober and joined a boxing ring. I could get up in the morning and exercise. I didnt need to sign a contract anymore. I sober dated. I sober celebrated friends birthdays. I sober had a fun Thursday night. I went to AA meetings sometimes and spent most of the meeting listening and nodding my head. I was funny and smart and friendly during the day and I was funny and smart and friendly at night. I added to my own life and stopped letting drinking take away from it. I started a social group. I started a book club. I started.

Sometime between the last crippling snow storm of last year and planning my 31st birthday, I stopped wanting to go to Edit Undo. I re-entered my own life. I went through those years and theyre a part of me for worse or worser. I went through it before knowing there was another side. I hit my rock bottoms (yes, there was more than one). Im still learning how to talk about it- what I want to say about it and to who. But the further I get from the person I was then, the more I like who Im turning into now. But letting go of her seemed like an impossible ask that the tiny tired voice deep inside me was begging for.

If I stopped drinking Id lose all of me, not just a part. I was terrified as if I was going to lose a limb or my hearing. My life would be filled withwhat? Id have no buoy or security blanket or man behind the curtain. Id be dry, unfilled, just curved edges and rims. The thought paralyzed me.

Now, Im at this other side. Im still learning what this other side is like and who I am in it. But I do know this- Im more now than I was before. Im more me and more strong and more present. I feel more and I listen to me more.

Days are now broken up between feeling this raw, strength of life and connection to people and namastes and really fantastic Im part of the universe and not from vibes to a total, giant uncertainty and instability, and anger and exhaustion. I never knew I could get tired of feelings. Weve moved in together, you see. We wake up together and go to bed together and they insist on forming an invisible fanny pack around my waist during the day. Hello intimacy, party of two. Theyre normally the big spoon. My thoughts continue from one moment to the next and connect without taking breaks. I had years and years of turning myself on and off and more off and now I just want to be on.

I wish I could say that when I wake up sober now, Im not depressed anymore or lonely, my friends became better friends, I became the perfect best friend, sister and daughter, and my love life came together Prince Charming Cinderella style. But becoming more sober didnt mean everything clicked into place, it just means I see the pieces more clearly and I dont hide from the messy parts.

So now whatdo I become resentful and guilty and depressed thinking about the years I spent avoiding intimacy and feelings and honesty and fuck, concrete memories? Do I think those years dont count? Do I blame my bad habits on the constant excess of New York City? Do I blame the alcoholic-like attributes that run in my blood line? Do I blame my friends? Or the work hard play hard Don Draper industry I work in? Do I blame shitty men boys?

Yes, to all of the above. I point the finger at all of them and then back at me, and then at them and back at me. Lily says hi.

Ive had men yell at me, not being able to grasp the idea of my moderated drinking habits, insisting that Im just pretending I dont drink because I wanted them to buy me drinks. I dont get it either. No means no guys. My friendships have changed, my god have my friendships changed. One friend who pre-games with a bottle of wine (a standard respectable approach I once followed), on multiple occasions, dumped her wine into my water when she realized I wasnt drunk like she was. Yeah, I dont spend time with her anymore.

I went sixty days without drinking before I decided to drink again. For me it was like breaking up with a boyfriend and then meeting up again two months later. Never a good idea. Youll never want to be just friends who catch every up every now and then. I drank Vueve Clicquot and it didnt make the night better but it didnt make it worse. I didnt gray out. I didnt break down. That night isnt fuzzy. I could wake up in the morning.

Theres been other times when I drank recently and couldnt move far from the couch. Those times are a quick, slap in the face of what not to do. But old feelings and doubts still come flooding back in. Will I always want another drink? Why cant I just stay sober? Why does everyone make it look so easy? Is my therapist actually Lily Tomlin?

Deep down I know the majority of my problems start and stop with alcohol. Drinking will always be a part of my life whether Im drinking or not. Itd be easier to figure out if I wasnt both the variable and constant in this little conundrum of mine.

Today, I stare all the feels in the face, and make sure they know the last sixteen years matter but the last thirteen months matter even more. Im not her anymore, Im a different, more me now.

Im not 100% sober and I dont know if I ever will be. One day, maybe sooner rather than later, I could decide to sign up for a sober lifestyle again. But right now, I cant imagine midnight on New Years Eve without a champagne toast. I can do without five toasts but one still feels OK to me. So yeahmy relationship with drinking? We file it under Its complicated.

The good news is, Ive learned how to unwind on a Friday night without the trifecta of a bottle of wine, pizza and Netflix. My secret is just pizza and Netflix.

Read more: http://ift.tt/2iTRz6N

from Getting Sober: Redefining My Longest Relationship